Head for the Hills

"The mountains are calling and I must go."  ~ John Muir

The mountains have been calling my name this year. Loudly.  But there really aren't any mountains nearby this prairie I call home.  None that I can escape to for just the weekend anyway.  However, just a short(ish) drive south of Dallas, is the gorgeous Hill Country of Central Texas.

So recently, I loaded the car with a backpack, tent and several gallons of water and headed out to escape the city for a few days.

Let's be honest, I have just about zero stress in my life.  I'm a very happy Pink Girl; I got no complaints.  Not a one.  But as I get farther down 35, I can feel my shoulders relaxing, my heart rate slowing and my smile growing even wider.  The Texas Hill Country makes my heart sing.  Every time.


After hiking for a few miles with all my gear on my back, in the pouring rain no less, then pitching our tent in just the right spot, we set out to explore Pedernales Falls at sunset.

There really isn't much more lovely than a sunset, is there?  The soft pinks and yellows of the fading day, quickly sinking below the horizon, framed by a brilliant blue sky, all to the soundtrack of the rushing river.  I sat there in disbelief, how did I get to be so lucky? So lucky to experience this, this  magnificent display of nature.

Nighttime meant drifting off in the black of night, the sky pierced by millions and millions of brilliant stars. Stars.  I don't see those much in the city. But out here, they are endless, sparkling like diamonds tossed about on a velvet display.  An owl, provided a gentle lullaby, accompanying the frogs who were so cheerfully croaking.  I'm absolutely certain I was smiling as I faded from consciousness, exhausted from the day.

Morning bought miles and miles of hiking, swimming among the fishes, turtles and dragonflies, and exclaiming, about a thousand times, "Isn't this just great?"

There aren't enough superlatives to describe the feeling of climbing to the top of a hill and overlooking the Texas horizon, the silence nearly deafening.  Is this sky really this blue?  Are the clouds really this white?  Is the world really this perfect?

In Texas it is.  Heaven, right here on Earth.  Or it sure can be if you look for it.

Eventually we returned home, back to reality.  The city isn't so bad, even if there are fewer stars and snakes. But I'm committed to getting back and soon. Back to that beauty, that peace, that serenity.

It's good for the soul.

"Everybody needs beauty, as well as bread, places to play in and pray in,  where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to the body and soul."  ~John Muir

Where do you go when you want to get away?

Sometimes My Quads Scare Me

And other triathlon truths.

I'm a triathlon noob.  Completing my very first tri in March, as a prelude to my first 70.3, I was immediately hooked.  And I suspected that might happen.  That was the whole reason for buying a road bike last summer, even if I didn't admit it then.

As analytical as they come, I had (and still have) lots of questions. Fortunately, I've got a lot of great tri friends that I can go to with my concerns.  I'm so grateful to have such a great resource in such knowledgeable and experienced friends!  And y'all surprise me by asking questions of me.  Me, a newbie!  This is certainly a learning year and I still have plenty to learn, hopefully before IMTX next May.  But I'm working on it!

If you'd like a peek into my pink noggin, here are a few things I've learned about tris, either from patient friends or just from experience.  Please remember, these are for brand newbies!

1.  Triathlon is expensive.  No, really expensive.  You thought cycling was spendy?  Just you wait.  But it is worth every dime and I'll be honest, don't skimp the first time or you'll just end up re-purchasing items and spending more than you needed to in the long run.

2.  You don't need a fancy tri bike.  Yes, I love my racing bike, but I did several triathlons on my heavy skillet of a road bike. And there will be people on hybrids and mountain bikes.  Promise.  No one will make fun of you.  Promise.  All you need to get started is a bike.  You've already got your arms and legs for the other two disciplines!

3.  I get this question a lot via email and I'm just going to go on record as stating, "No, you do not wear unnawears."  Do you hear me?  No unnawears in tri!  Think about it, do you really want wet bunchies in your bidnass on the bike?  You do not.  Embrace going commando.  It's freeing.

4.  A happy hoo ha is a happy triathlete.  Make sure you have a good bike fit and for goodness sake, if you're going to ride long, slap some ride glide around.  I like Hoo Ha Ride Glide, but I'll warn you, it's minty.  And that's all I'll say about that.

5.  After a race, or after a long brick workout, your house will look like triathlon threw up all over it.  There will be wet gear everywhere.  Yes, those are socks and a tri-kit in my sink. Don't judge.  You'll think you should dry out on the bike or run, but you'll just sweat so much it will all stay wet.  And disgusting. There is no smell like lake + sweat smell.  I swear it takes me longer to clean up after a tri than to actually race the dang thing.

6.  You don't need a race kit to get started.  For a sprint, just throw on a swim suit over your jog bra and then pull on shorts over that for the bike/run.  Did I mention triathlon is spendy?  Just race in what you have the first few times.  No one will point and laugh.  I promise.

7.  When you're ready for tri shorts and a tri top, know that it will look horrible.  Tri gear is insanely unflattering, even on the most lean, fit athletes.  Just imagine how you feel swimsuit shopping, then add that to jeans shopping and bra shopping.  Now you're about halfway to the discomfort of shopping for a spandex tri-kit.  It's awful.  But everyone will look stuffed into their gear.  (don't mistake cycling shorts for tri shorts - tri shorts have a much thinner chamois so it doesn't get all bunchy in your bidnass when you  are killing it in the run portion)

8. Having a fun swimsuit and swim cap makes all the difference for those early swim practices.  No, I am not kidding.  Splish makes the most fun suits and they are great quality.  Why buy plain black when you can have flying sheep on your suit?

9.  Wear your timing chip on your left ankle, away from your gears.

10.  If you are concerned about losing your goggles when you get kicked, wear them under your swim cap. And yes, you'll probably get kicked.  It's not the end of the world and it won't make you drown.  And if you really get desperate, you're welcome to borrow my Nutria Powah.

Bonus Tip:  You will meet the most amazing people.  And you will have so much fun!  Triathletes are like ultra runners - everyone is family. And it doesn't matter if you are riding a Toy R Us mountain bike, wearing a Wal M@rt bathing suit and have no idea what T1 means, they'll embrace you and guide you the entire way.

Cooper Sprint Tri - Race Recap

So I raced on Saturday.

Well, I hesitate to say that. I participated in a triathlon.  I'm still figuring out how to race this sport, how to give my all to each discipline and not hold back.  That's tough for an endurance athlete; I'm accustomed to saving some for the end.  But in a sprint distance, there should be no saving anything.

I managed to not drown during the swim, so I consider that a win.  I'm just not a fast swimmer. And because I seed myself so low, I'm fighting for space among the other panicked, slower swimmers.  Elaine jumped in right behind me and several times we had to tread water because of the log jam of people.  And I might have kicked Elaine one and she might have punched me once but we're still friends so it's cool.  Lotsa bodies in a small space! No worries, though, I'm not in the swim for any other goal than to finish.

G once told me that triathlon is  the perfect sport for ADD athletes and she's right.  As I pulled myself out of the water and ripped off my goggles, I thought, "I get to ride my bike now!"  Oh, and how I do love to ride my bike!  This was my first time racing my new ride and I was really looking forward to it!  The bike course was two, six mile loops.  Two, very curvy, u-turn filled loops.  While I loved throwing it into my big gear and passing people, I did not enjoy being told by race officials to "Slow down." I kid you not.  I was told not once, not twice, but three times to s-l-o-w d-o-w-n.  Um, this is a race folks, no slowing down!  I also had one car dart out in front of me as I approached the end of the course.  Please note that this car had a bike on the back.  A cyclist!  Sheesh.  C'mon y'all, it's a race course please, pretty please don't squoosh me!  I don't know what my total bike time was off the top of my head but I do know that I managed to meet my mph average goal and that makes me happy.

New ride, ready to go.

Then the run.  My strong leg.  Whoo hoo - I love running fast!  My legs felt great coming off that spiffy new tri bike, no jelly at all.  Love.  But as I headed out on the very sunny course, everyone was walking.  Not cool, y'all!  I need some inspiration!  So, I tried to pick up the pace and encourage those I passed.  It was a very hot day and since I was one of the last people in the water, those still on the course must have really been struggling with the heat.  On the bike and on the run, when I was tempted to slow down, I kept telling myself to "PUSH."  And yes, I said it out loud.  But I was so far back, there usually wasn't anyone around me to hear it.  Not that I cared if they did.  So push, I did.  And before I knew it, I spotted my friends, whooping and hollering, DK the very loudest, for me to RUN.  Coming up to the 3 mile sign, a volunteer told me, "Just a quarter mile to go!"  And then I got very confused.  This was supposed to be a 5K. There should only be a tenth of a mile to go!  So I didn't know if they course was longer than I expected or he was just bad at maps and math in general.  Uh oh.  I spotted a woman in a purple tri top and decided that my only goal right now was to pass her. Yep, that's how I race, pick people off and take 'em down.

And take her down I did, although she never knew it.  A tri group was gathered together to have a group photo taken, the photog on one side of the course, the athletes on the other.  I sprinted past their set up and they all roared for me as I flew by.  I love the tri community!  Rounding the corner I gave it my all to cross the finish.  That's my finish line motto, all the way.

Mama C, her triumphant return to triathlon - read her tri story here.

Meh.  I had a decent for me time.  I'd still like to get closer to my actual 5K time.  (and while we are wishing, I'd like to finally get my 5K time where I want it to be) I'm still learning how to gauge racing this distance and I have a lot to learn.  So this week I'm signing up for a few more sprints before the summer winds down and Austin's 70.3 is staring me in the face.

My tri-bestie, and partner in racing crime, Heidi came to cheer.

I'm really surprised at how much I dearly love triathlon.  Racing is fun again - entirely fun!  And I'm enjoying the challenge of being a total noob and figuring it all out.  And I will figure it out.

And by my side, each time, will be my crazy fun friends, with yellow shirts visible from space.  Such an encouragement to have this crew cheering!

The Divine Miss M!

What is your favorite distance to race?  

No Rest for the Wicked

Er, or something like that.

After Galveston’s 70.3, I decided it was time to take a Break with a capital B.  My focus over the last two months has been cycling long, lots of swimming, some yoga again and very little running.  Yes, I did speedwork at the track every Tuesday, but I haven’t run over eleven miles since my 70.3. 

And it was wonderful.

Did I miss running long?  Nope.  Every Saturday I’d wake up and give myself the choice, run long or short? And I always chose short.  I needed the break both physically and mentally.  Swimming, being on my bike, those are all work but so much fun!  (and don’t wear my body down quite so much)  I’ve enjoyed racing shorter distances (triathlon,  5K) and riding long (100 miles where I nearly threw my bike in a creek.)  But I’m feeling the need to get back to what I know best.  Racing.  Really racing.  And for me to race, it has got to be on foot.

Chicago is on my Must Race list, and I figure 2012 is the year to go for it.  I had a great experience last fall at Marine Corps and I’m hopeful I can not only recreate that experience, but improve my time.  Significantly.

Marathon training officially began June 18. Printed is my pink and green training program, chock full of workouts once again.  Oh yeah, I’ll be racing my next 70.3 just a few weeks after Chicago so it’s both marathon and triathlon training.  My eyes glaze over only a little bit and my heart races slightly when I see all those boxes and two a day workouts.  The intensity and volume ramp up very quickly in this training cycle.  That TPG, she don’t mess around. 

And it’s not just my discipline specific training that is getting an overhaul.  I’m not a scientist, nor do I play one on tv, but I go faster when I’m leaner.  (that isn’t the only factor skinny does not equal fast) I’ll be honest, getting to racing weight isn’t easy but it’s just a few pounds and if that means getting my eating super clean, well, that’s a good thing.  My crew and I are all pouring over the Feed Zone cookbook, written by the chef and nutritionist for a professional cycling team.  I’m looking forward to cramming my cake hole full of nutritious FUEL.  I love how I feel when I’m eating really well! 

I'm finally back on the stick with yoga.  It makes me strong and keeps me centered, mentally.  It’s the perfect activity recovery for me; I love sweating it out for 90 minutes in silence.  And I love the muscles and flexibility it creates!  Yoga makes me a stronger athlete.  Plain and simple. 

Finally, sleep.  So important for a tired body and yet, I get very little.  I’m really making this a priority this summer – TPG has GOT to start sleeping on a regular basis.  (and I’m sure my friends who deal with grumpasaurus me would agree!) It’s time that my body realizes just who is in charge and that includes slumber.  Insomnia, it is so ON. 

Pretty much everything is in place.  I just  misplaced my motivation for a little while.  But it's coming back.  Maybe it was the extended off season.  Maybe it is the siren song of my, as Erik called it, stealth bomber bike luring me to ride long instead of run.  


But slowly, I'm finding it.  One track workout, one tempo run, one LSD at a time.  


I better, because these 26.2 miles aren't going to run themselves!


What do you do when you lose motivation?  Tips, tricks?

Gotta Get My Hands on a Gator!

A few weeks ago I spent six days in New Orleans.  I’d never been and even though I was there for work, I hopped at the opportunity to explore a little when I could.

Basically I had one goal: to pat an alligator. 

No, I’m not kidding.  This was on the top of my To Do List, pat an alligator.  So, my obliging friends headed out with me to Slidell early one morning in search of alligators.

Willis,  his lovely bride C and T.O.

We found them.  Found them on a two hour swamp tour.  Oh my cries, I was so excited to see that first gator gliding towards our boat!  I sat right next to the Captain (of course I did) and got a front row seat for the Alligator Show.  He’d throw a marshmallow to get the gator’s attention, it makes a resounding popping noise when it hits the water, and next thing you know, here comes a gator, silently slurping down a marshmallow.  It. Was. So. Exciting!

Marshmallows were followed up with hot dogs on a stick.  I could have reach out and touched the alligators, they were that close.  I could barely contain myself and leaned over as far as I dared.  Several times my face was about a foot away from the gator.  T.O. asked me, “TPG, why are you talking to it like it’s a puppy?”  Alligators like baby talk, fact.  Hey, I didn’t get eaten, did I?

The entire tour was quite fascinating and I learned a lot about swamp life.  Beautiful and peaceful, I could have stayed on that boat all day.  And as much as I wanted to pat one of those giant alligators on the head, I refrained.  But. But, the captain pulled out a cooler and asked if anyone wanted beer.  Then he lifted the lid and pulled out the most precious little baby alligator you’ve ever seen!  My eyes lit up – I was going to get to touch an alligator! 

T.O., made a face and shook her head, giving up her turn.  She wasn’t interested in alligator cuddles, not one bit!

But I was.  Oh, he was so teeny and so sweet looking.  His little belly was soft and his feet were like velvet.  Like a human baby, when I offered him my finger, he gently closed his little alligator claw around it.  I was in heaven. 

We did some other touristy things, but the alligators were def the highlight of my trip!

We ended up in Mississippi too.  It's always an adventure with this group!  And yes, I was the only one on the swamp tour in a dress. Don't hate.

If you could pat any wild animal, what would you pat?  Polar bear is next on my list!  Don’t laugh, this is totally happening.

So This is Happening

I have no room in my heart for doubt or fear. ~Aron Ralston  


I used to think that Big Dreams were for Other People.  Don't get me wrong, I was happy with what I had, where I was.  Complacent.  And then, and then I was given the opportunity to completely re-imagine my life.  To start over and be the Real Me. The Me I had always secretly imagined but was afraid to recognize.  

Now I have room in my heart for big dreams.  The Biggest.  There is no doubt in my mind that I can accomplish pretty much anything I set my mind to do, as long as I'm disciplined and diligent about preparing and training for it.  And as long as I believe in myself.  

Anything.

You can too.  

Over the past few years, with the help of my strong faith and some incredible people, friends who loved me and believed in me when I didn't believe in myself, I've been discovering the Real Me. Getting to know her again and making a plan for the future.  It's exciting to throw off the shackles of fear and doubt!  It's thrilling to imagine a life without limits, to go for my dreams, big and small.


Just over ten months from today, instead of doubt or fear, I'll carry each and every one of those amazing friends in my heart as I continue my journey to be the best TPG I can be.  For 140.6 miles.  


And I couldn't be more excited.

What do Watermelon and Camels Have in Common?

Bicycles.  Duh.


I know, I know, I haven't been posting much lately.  Mostly because I haven't been up to much, training wise.  I've spent a lot of time on my bike.  But what is there to say about that?  


Well, here you go.


Headed out for 55 miles last weekend.  It was a little warm so on one of our stops to purchase water, I carefully clomped through the produce section to purchase watermelon.  Even if it does make my throat itch (I'm allergic to all melons, but sometimes eat them) it really hit the spot.  Mmm, hydrated!

Oh, don't mind me.  I always dress this way to grocery shop.

Independence Day we met a bunch of Frunners at the lake for a 5 and 10K race.  I paced Violator for her first race back post injury.  She did great!  Dang, she's a strong runner!  So proud of how hard she has worked in the past year.  

Went for quite a few warm runs.  I refuse to complain about the heat.  I mean, it's summer in Texas.  You really shouldn't be surprised unless you are new.  I'm trying to run later in the mornings or in the afternoon to get acclimated to the hot conditions and not spoil myself with late night runs.  So that means at times, I'm seeking out what little shade I can find when stopped at a traffic light!  

Had plans to ride long on Sunday.  Which meant plenty of water and fuel.  I'm still obsessed with my Feed Zone cookbook.  I'd much rather have real food than gels any day!  

Team K just recently started rollin and  they've been eager to join us for a Donkey Ride.  The Donkeys were out in full force yesterday!  And if you look closely, you can spot a camel, losing his religion out in the field.  Oh, he was really putting on a show for us!  Rolling in the dust, hind legs in the air, he was hilarious!

And today, well, I have the most fun friends.  I'm not sure who started it, or even why, but we began a chain of photo texts, all of us trying to imitate different Emojis.  It started with winking and quickly progressed.  Here is my attempt at the winking heart shaped eye Emoji.  Can't tell us apart, can you? 

Yeah, I'm pretty ridiculous.  

I slept like a Viking on Thursday and Friday nights, a cumulative 23 hours!  Yes, I'm making up for the past, oh, two years.  I even managed a few naps in between, if you can believe that. Sadly, Saturday night my old friend insomnia was back in full force.  But tonight, tonight I'm beating the system.  I don't know how, but it's happening.  I've had a taste of sleep and it shall be mine!  

What'd you do fun this weekend?  

My Special Little Guy

I grew up with dogs.


And squirrels, and rabbits, guinea pigs, ducks, hamsters, goats, horses, turtles, you name it.   But never a cat.  We weren't "cat people."


Or so I thought.  Then this precious little guy came into my life.  He had a rough start to life before I stole rescued him.  Teeny tiny and impossibly cute, he and his sister won my heart instantly. His ears full of dirt and his little belly empty, he couldn't even meow when I first got him.  He'd open his tiny mouth and nothing but air would come out.  

Determined not to be one of those people. I declared that my cats would not get on the furniture, certainly not on the counters!  Ha!  I soon learned that you don't tell a cat what to do.  As with all my animals, I lived with him for a bit before bestowing a name on his fuzzy little head.  Tried out a few, and then, one day as he was sauntering into the kitchen (this cat is prone to saunter) I surprised myself by exclaiming, "Well, hello there Hank!"  And so he became forever Hank.  

From the get go, Hank was My Cat.  He loved me best and I him.  I'd always wanted a pet all of my own and Hank gladly filled that role.  Initially he and his sister slept in the living room in a crate.  But one night, as he was crying pitifully, I decided to let him sleep with me for just this one night.  And that little ball of orange fur has slept with me every night since, snuggled right up next to me in the crook of my right arm, his soft head nestled on my shoulder, purring himself to sleep right in my ear.  

I always say, he stood in the Pretty Line twice; he's not super smart. But he's sweet and he's strong.  He can open any door or cabinet in the house. And I often come home to find every door and cabinet open!  However, if it closes behind him, he can't get out.  There have been several times I've come home to hear muffled meowing coming from the recycling bin.  Who knows how long he's been sitting in there?  Bless his fuzzy little heart.

We've been through a lot together, me and Hank.  Hank, Hanky, Hank Bank, sometimes Frank, Shoog Boog (short for Sugar Bear, duh) or My Special Little Guy, he knows I'm talking to him.  I cannot tell you how much comfort and joy this cat has brought me over the years.

Precocious, he has climbed up in the attic on more than one occasion.

Always by my side, he keeps me company on the floor when I stretch after my run.  

Hank has been feeling puny over the past few weeks.  Several trips to the vet yielded no answers.  Until, until he finally got sick enough that it was clear.  Recently he was diagnosed with renal failure.  And last Friday he was admitted to the cat hospital for the weekend.  It broke my heart to leave him there, scared and alone.  I visited him often, just holding him and reassuring him that it was going to be okay.

But I knew that it most likely was not.  


And yesterday I made the toughest decision a pet owner ever must make.  


I love you Hank.  You were my first cat and you changed my life.  The house, and my life, aren't the same without you.  You've left a big, stripey orange hole in my heart.  I'll miss you terribly little buddy, especially at night when there is no gentle purring to lull me to sleep.  

Thank you for teaching me to love like it's my job.  




Because it is.  

I Got 99 Problems and a Bike Ain't One

Remember last summer when I brought home my first road bike? Aw, that was cute. Puppy love.  Crush, it was simply a crush. 

Well, on the hunt again, this is the real deal. Forever. Lucky in love is not how I would usually describe myself, but this time, this time I was going to find The One.  A Big Girl Bike.

Crush One, the Felt AR5. Oh, I've had my hands all over this bike. I dreamed about this bike. But sadly, they didn’t have one in my size.  Anywhere. Oh, there may have been tears burning in my eyes when I had to pass on this bicycle.

Felt AR5

Next, a sexy Cervelo. Oh mah guah. BSM (Bike Shop Man) put my pedals on it and sent me off with instructions to "ride for an hour or so." And who wouldn't jump at the chance to spend quality time with someone so handsome? And fast, and light and...easy to get along with. Sigh.

Cervelo S2

Of course, BSM knew I would crush hard on the Cervelo once I rode it. And I did. But, but I'm not super crazy about red, I'm a pink girl. And in the back of my mind is what first caught my eye, the Felt. As with music and resturants, I prefer the road less traveled. I’m attracted to a bike brand that isn't just everywhere. BSM calls all over creation. Cannot find a Felt in my size. So I try the next shop. My BSD, (Bike Shop Dude, younger than BSM) at another shop, cannot locate the Felt either. Felt says the supply is "low". Sigh.

What does a desperate pink girl do? Call up her friend Mike. We talked for a bit about our lives, then he asked me to remind him what I'm riding now. And he then reminds me that I already have a nice bike. But yes, he's a Felt dealer and wants to help me out. And, it turns out, is a also a close friend of the Felt rep, who, turns out, was able to find my size. He's a matchmaker, good ole Mike.

Turns out, it wasn't even an issue. Mike held a measuring tape to my a$$ and frowned. (not the first man to do that, ha!) Uh oh, not good. While he could get the seat height right, the top tube is about 4 inches too long. I can barely reach the bars. Whomp whomp.

Oh yes, the Felt rep let me borrow HER Felt AR1.  Uh, thank you!

So we talk about my goals. This is why I come to Mike with my bike drama. He knows what I need better than I do. Together we decide that I need a TT (Time Trial or Triathlon) bike.  So we start over. I find a Felt that is a similar frame as the AR5, but a tri bike indeed. And it comes in WSD. (Women's Specific Design, basically, shrink it and pink it)  But, and this is totally a chick move, it's teal. That's not very tough, teal. Then he put my pink pedals on a Cannondale Slice. You know, like Chrissie rides. And I start to smile. I really like this bike, I do. My heart starts to warm up a bit. Then men's bike is a beauty in black and white, but sadly, too big. He cut off the seat post and had it all the way down but I was barely able to get clipped in. Short legs, you know.

Cannondale Slice

Here's the truth, I need a 47. (cm, that is) I'm a little lady. And most men's bikes just won't work for me. (Cervelos are notoriously small...they've got it figured out, those Canadians!) As much as I loved that Cervelo, it's red, not a TT and pricier than the TTs he has me admiring. So, I'm home, thinking about it.

Another call, he found a 47 Slice.  My first reaction when I saw it?  “That’s a tiny bicycle!”  His reply?  “You’re a tiny bicyclist.”  Indeed.  So I ride the Slice for a long while.  And I love it.  But.  But, small as it is, it has 650s, not 700s.  (700 refers to the wheel size) And we all agreed that 700s are the way to go if I can make it happen.  (nothing wrong with 650s, just not the right choice for me)

47 Slice, WSD with 650s

I get off the bike, conflicted.  And my buddy hands me a water, instructs me to take off my cleats so that I don’t bust my pink butt on the slick concrete floors and…shows me, once again, a bike on-line nearly identical in geometry to the WSD Slice.  But. But, this isn’t a WSD and it features 700s.  And we talk about every last detail of this bike.  Twice.  And he reminds me of all the good features of both bikes.  I can tell he wants to say more, but he wants it to be my decision.

So…I order a Scott Plasma.  And grinning, he pulls up bookface and shows me his Scott Plasma.  Ah ha. So happy with my purchase!  It's not a WSD, it features 700s, upgraded components from the Slice and a sick, sick matte gray finish.  A wise woman once told me that you should think your bike is sexy! Oh, and I do.  Very.

Getting' my pink bar tape to match my pink pedals!

I waited two weeks for my bike to arrive and be assembled.  Then I waited another few hours for my fitting.  (there was still a lot to cut down on the seat post and bars) But it was worth the wait.

Me and Mike - so thankful for his guidance and patience with me!  

All good things are. And when you know, you just know.  

I've been out a on a few longish rides.  Kind of broke his rules by going out longer than 2 hours the first week (and again the second) but I cannot help myself!  I'd stay in the saddle for an entire day if I found a route that would accomodate me. I'm loving it!  It's fast and fierce and I'll work very hard, every day, just to deserve this bike. 

Because it deserves only the very best!  :)