Friday, November 21, 2008

First Tucson Ride

We met downstairs early this morning for a quick ride. Seemed a simple enough plan. Make sure everything on your bike is in good working order. Do a quick 10-15 mile loop. Come back for breakfast.

After training alone for months, the thing that has made me the most nervous throughout this was the idea of riding so close to other people. So this morning would be a very small warm up to that (20 people today, 9000 people tomorrow).

Not but ten minutes later the group was split at a light change. I unclipped, stopped, and surprisingly (for the lack of notice on the stopping) did not fall. Small victory. I was happy to be riding with the team and felt comfortable with the people around me.

Green light.

I gave a strong down pedal with my clipped in foot too soon. I couldn't get the other foot clipped and was too close to the person in front of me. Crossed tires. Over correct and guarantee a fall or don't and possibly knock us both down... over correct.

So down I go... into traffic. I saw a grey vehicle above my head, heard screeching tires, felt a burn in my elbow and a jarring sensation in my head.

"Did we hit her!?!"

No. Just a little burn on my elbow and a headache (minimized by the helmet).

It scared me, but I knew I had to get back on and ride. We cut the ride short, but it was good. I feel ready. I have my fall out of the way and can look forward to staying upright tomorrow.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

You know you want it... come and get it

So I know you are all dying to read about the most pathetic set of dates ever... well kids, your wait is over. I am doing a little human experiment that will likely result in either my falling in love (1% chance), my getting an incurable disease (1% chance because I'm a prude and mono is curable), or my being completely humiliated by some sham of a date with a guy twice my age that I met online (98% chance).

So the only thing is that you have to visit my blogspot page at Not because I want things to be difficult for you, on the contrary. You can subsribe to the page in the upper right hand corner and read away without your boss knowing you are online. Besides, I don't want some crazy stumbling upon the blog and being able to see my awesome luchador (super cool Mexican wrestling) photo and falling in love with me through Myspace. Let's be real, I'm just that irresistible.

So check out the blog. Feel free to comment, suggest dates, critique, and laugh it up with your coworkers. At this point it's clear, I have no shame and will do anything to amuse myself and my friends.

Looking forward to falling in love with you,


By pure definition, I'm not a stalker.

someone who prowls or sneaks about; usually with unlawful intentions

I don't prowl. I let people know I'm doing it, so no sneaking here. And if it's unlawful to live vicariously through the people around you, then take me to jail.

Monday, November 17, 2008

The Accomplices

The Cynic- The Cynic raised her daughter to adulthood (or some facsimile of) and can't fathom why anyone would be concerned with dating to this degree when they haven't even reached thirty. Since she has a knack for finding broken men, hopefully she'll be able to spot them and push them out of the way before I trip on them. The Cynic is into "play dates" and due to her affinity for younger men, serious relationships are, at present, out of the question.

Joedonna Sparkle- Joedonna Sparkle married while still in high school and raised three children before dissolving the union after 39 years. Providing a moral compass for the experiment, she will encourage fun... but since she's my mom... only fun on a junior high level. To be clear, I wasn't that much fun in junior high. Joedonna sees things as a mother, a best friend, and a strong woman who always made the best of things.

The Soccer Mom- Soccer Mom has a get 'er done attitude. She drives an SUV, carts her kids to a thousand activities a week, and works in accounting. After 3 years of long distance dating, the man in her life made her an honest woman and she has been married for 14 years. Two boys, a career, a husband, a dog, parents that live so close they are practically in the same room… Soccer Mom provides the perspective of the working mom who made long distance work. Like Joedonna she will provide a moral compass, but I'm certain she'll be more lenient in hopes of a good laugh at my expense.

Ali Katt- Ali is the youngest of the accomplices. I tried to equate her to Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall) so I could tell people she had more sex than a hooker. She reminded me that she was more like Carrie cause she keeps going back to her version of Big. Either way, she provides the perspective of early twenties, never been married, men are like a box of chocolates/Lays potato chips… you never know what you're going to get and you can't eat just one.

Mrs. Texas- Born and raised in DFW, Mrs. Texas is fairly content with marriage or the single life, either way she knows men still get on your nerves and still manage to occasionally surprise you. She's been single, married, married with kids, divorced with kids, and remarried with kids but still manages to keep her single-working-mom-of-two-while-husband-lives-in-another-state lifestyle in tact. “I am a Texas woman. I don’t need a man’s help to keep things running!” are words she lives by. Part couch potato and part princess, Mrs. Texas doesn't believe in Prince Charming or fairly tale love, but that hasn't stopped her from kissing more than a few frogs.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Goodbye Bike

I dropped off my bike today. I didn't realize how attached I had become. That is surprising considering how many other bikes I've "dated" during what should have been an exclusive bike relationship. I look in the rearview mirror and wonder... where's my bike?

The car is empty. I doesn't even smell like my bike anymore.

Friday, November 14, 2008

The Experiment

The stigma of being single has never been of particular concern to me. Being single is for the most part when I am at my best. I have historically been the type who gets into a relationship and immediately allows my neurotic need for 1950's sitcom love (you know the kind with the perfect relationship and twin beds) to lead me to a place where I lose sight of reality entirely. Where as when I'm single I slide more into the sitcom's of the 90's where it's okay to be single because without awkward dates what is there to laugh at?

Here I am a few short months from my 29th birthday. Most people have their breakdown (for lack of a better term) at 30. So why now? Pro activity. There is no point in waiting for the slide into my 30s, the decade in which I might become a cougar, when I can be proactive at 29 thus avoiding the horror of compulsive workouts and long nights at Martini Park hoping against hope that some 22 year old guy finds me attractive. Or at least attractive enough to take me home expecting gratification which he no doubt will not return.

Out of my pension for pro activity spawns the plan. The plan of all plans. So good (at least in theory) that there is no way to pass it up.

2009. 29 years old. 29 first dates. All before 2/9. It's doable... with help.

Saturday, November 08, 2008

Looking (or pointing) Ahead

So if you don't know yet, I cut the tip of my finger off. Not a lot. Just enough that it bled forever and has gone numb down to the first knuckle.

The result of this mishap is that I have a gauze and tap extravaganza on my finger that doesn't allow it to bend. So I rode this morning. Not far, just a 35 mile loop through North Richland Hills, Grapevine, Southlake and back home. For those of you familiar with the area, yes I know I left out half a dozen other places but I only note where I am turning. But, back to the gauze. I couldn't get my cycling glove on. Bad? Not really, just a little chilly. The sad part of the ride was the fact that I had a gauze covered finger pointing straight ahead the entire ride.

Hey Lacey- which way are you going? This way!

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

Airport Employees

At the risk of this somehow making its way back to the Secretary of Airport Operations, the Czar of Flight Security, or the UN Ambassador on Irritating People Before Cramming Them Into a Tiny Seat Beside Someone Who Has a Complete Disregard for Personal Space, I have to share with you the dark truth behind airport employees. This is worse that the Dateline expose' on old meat being cleaned up and sold at Food Lion... worse than the youtube video of a fast food employee bathing in the dish sink at the back of the chain "restaurant"... dare I say worse than the horror stories you hear about transient ride operators at local fairs.

Brace yourself.

Airport employees, thanks to terrorism and despite their overwhelming lack of higher education, have been trained to believe that they have complete control of airports, security, you, me, our luggage, the tube of chapstick I so wrongly tried to smuggled through security without restricting its devasting power in a ziplock bag, the order in which we board the plane, our right to not sit beside a person as large as a linebacker for an arena football team (that's right, somewhat fit, but mostly fat and either way oozing into my seat from above and below the armrest that is my only remaining hope at the personal space bubble I have tried so hard to maintain in my 28 years), in fact the entire the fate of the world (both free and otherwise) rests in the hands of these employees. It is quite the burden. I can see why so many of them have turned into sour faced, grumpy shells of the fun loving people that surely they used to be.
As I sit on a plane (if you can call a 20 row turbo prop a legitmate plane) from Denver to Boise I consider the days events thus far.

As I enter the line for security a woman (who is being paid how much?) stands at the front of the entrance. Is she there to check your boarding pass? Perhaps to check your ID? To help inexperienced travelrs through the process? No. Her job is to make you consolidate your items into one carry on and a personal item. "But ma'am, I need to keep my boarding pass and ID out." "I'm sorry, you have to prove that you can fit everything into one carry on and one personal item before I can let you into line." So I take my drivers license, boarding pass, and cell phone and drop them in my bag. "You'll need to put your suit jacket in your bag or put it on." Great. Who am I to argue.

As I approach the next airport employee just 5 to 10 feet away, I am asked to produced my ID and boarding pass. You know, the ones I was just asked to put away. So I open my bag and out they both come... again.

I step up to the cold metal tables to prepare for the walk. On a side note, I think security has become more of a walk of shame than the proverbial walk of shame. I mean, so you put on a cute outfit and stay over at someone else's place. The next morning hopefully you're satisfied, as long as you were an adult about things- you're not worse off than the day before, and you get to put on the same cute outfit to go home. No shame. But at the airport, you have to take off your jacket (the one I just put back on because someone told me to), your belt if it has too much metal, any large metal jewelry, your shoes, take all your anti aging creams, whitening toothpaste, antipersperant, make-up, etc out of your bag and display these things for everyone to see while you walk through a metal detector wearing what is left of your outfit.

I digress.

The rest of the travel day continues along the same lines from security to the gate attendants to the flight attendants to car rental people at the airport. But truthfully it doesn't really bother me. It doesn't even particulary affect my mood. At least not as much as the man sitting next to me on the flight from Denver who at first I thought smelled of vomit, but decided later had more of a processed meat/camping trip/no shower smell.

Sunday, November 02, 2008

An Entire Week

My mom was intown this weekend for some metro area entertainment (something you just can't find in Lampasas). So a long ride on Saturday was not in the cards this week. Instead it was a week of short rides. 10 miles here, 15 miles there. In all total, I don't even think I did 60 miles... but I'm pretty sure my mom is worth it.