it hurts

So apparently going from sitting in a chair in the library for 12 hours a day for three weeks to riding over 100 miles in two days makes for an unhappy knee. Not to mention my ass.
I have knee tracking problems that make my knees sound like velcro when I get up from any kind of squatting position. And now my IT band is all "okay calm the fuck down and cut me a break." Lack of any bike-appropriate gear save for a wind-proof soft shell and a pair of Sidis have me/my butt almost sighing in relief when I see a hill around mile 32, even if my knee's freaking out. And sheer laziness had me sneezing and coughing when I got home yesterday because, despite the wind and rain, I didn't want to stop and put on the jacket in my bag [yes, I go on 40 mile rides with a Baileyworks strapped to my back...don't judge].

It was probably for the best though. I have a whole pile of stuff to be cut, sewn, screened, and assembled. Activities that don't involve putting [too much] pressure on my knee. Although, I admit, I did get a little zealous last night with the sewing machine making it go full-throttle Chinese-sweatshop-style with my foot squeezing the pedal [yes, there is one] against the floor.
And I got more done than I thought I would. Nothing's complete, yet, but I'll have an inventory soon. Or at least Cambridge will. And that list of hats already promised will start to get shorter. Even if my rides get longer. And slightly more painful. Because as long as my knee feels like it's going to snap, crackle, or pop, I'll find time to stay up too late working on cycling caps.

I have lots of new ideas too, and custom jobs that have been shelved for months. They're going to be pretty awesome. Even my knee thinks so.
Get excited.

gratin d'endives

"Hey, wanna race 'cross?"
Marcus asked me this as he, Eric, and I lingered on Harvard Ave last night after an IBC sushi fest. He just got a new cross bike that he's building up today so maybe I should have expected the question. And even with a belly full of sushi, I nearly pounced at that question.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes.
That question lingered in my head and greeted me this morning, bright and somewhat early. My legs were a little worn out from the psycho 40-miler-plus-running workout combo of yesterday, and I was tempted to do an easy 30 mile loop instead. The hills I'll have to tackle on my decided route...the fact that I'm on a single-speed...my leg being a little achy...

All those got shoved aside as I swung a leg over my bike and didn't stop until I hit Arlington, again. And on the way, I remembered something that made me detour into the heart of Lexington. My aunt used to live here. Between Brussels and Tokyo, my aunt, uncle, and cousins lived in this quaint, little New England town. It was only for a few years, and because I associate my aunt with Belgium instead, it's a fact that I tend to forget.
And sometimes, I wonder if my aunt has as many memories of Lexington as she does of Brussels. I remember one Christmas [yes, my family celebrates it even though we're complete heathens], she brought a small casserole dish that smelled deliciously of cream and cheese. Hiding between those gooey layers were endives, pale with a browned corner here and there, their distinctive bitterness tempered by butter, cream, and Gruyere. My first mouth-watering encounter with the vegetable, I gulped and gobbled it down. That gratin d'endives still has me yearning for Belgium.

As I took pictures of Lexington, I was tempted to call my aunt and cousins. Endives and waffles are amazing, but why did they never get into cycling? Why did they keep secret this sport called cyclocross?
"Wait, oh, you'll have to get another bike," Marcus said, last night.
"That's a 'cross bike. I can race it single-speed," I said as I pointed to my Bianchi.
"Dude, that would be so awesome!"
Or it could just be incredibly embarrassing. Maybe it'll get me to Belgium, though. And even if that takes a few years, I'd endure an hour or so of incredible pain to sink my teeth into a sugary waffle.
Alright, a cupcake might do, too, in a pinch.

highways and hurdles

Dear Mark,
I assume you're not passed out in a ditch somewhere after whatever may have transpired last night to celebrate the end of 2L. I'm hoping you can read this through the haze of your hangover.
Remember yesterday when I ran into you again after our rescheduled exams? And you told me not to take that route to Natick and I should go to Dover instead? And you said that this one route would be good and I'd like it because it's sort of hilly and quiet and nice?
Well, I was really excited about it, and got all changed and jersey-fied for this ride. And then like 5 miles in, I hit a highway.

I actually tried to ride on it, and then I figured maybe I shouldn't, and I tried to see if it was just a sort-of highway that ends but it was kind of scary and I couldn't imagine how I would get back. So, instead, I ended up taking the usual 12 mile loop home and then passed out when I got to my apartment. Dover, fail, apparently.
But today, I managed to make it to Arlington via Lexington. And let me tell you, it's like a whole different world. There are trees and little traffic and even bodies of water were involved! I was totally channeling Rapha Continental [but maybe without the speed, style, and grace]. I mean, this does not look like Massachusetts. Or at least the Massachusetts I'm used to.

The people are incredibly nice too, at least if you're a girl and sweating buckets on some isolated private way with no clue where she's going. Oh, yeah, I did get spit on by some kids on the way back, but I guess that comes with the territory [don't worry, I showered].
And I got lost about five times, but that goes without saying. It made the 35 mile-ish ride into something like 40, and other than a 10 minute break in Arlington, I hardly stopped. Progress, right?

I think I've found my daily route. It even has some legit hills, and twisty roads. If you weren't leaving tomorrow for New York City, I'd drag you and Obersheimer there tomorrow morning. Even though with your respective gears, you'd both dust me. But come August, when you're back, I plan on being at least a little bit stronger.
Time to sink my face into some food. Then a nap maybe, and gym time. Yeah, running starts today. I have difficulty walking, so this will be interesting. Anyway, I'm hungry. See you next week in the city, yeah?
oxox, k

between books and buttons

Books are officially closed for the summer.
And before I have to slip into button downs and the occasional suit, I have a small window of freedom. Well, I have a growing list of things that need to get done, but that comes after I regroup, mentally assess the mess that my life and apartment are in, and say fuck it for now and fall asleep without worrying about anything.
I have incredibly selfish plans for the next few days. They mostly involve doing whatever the fuck I want, mostly on my bike, mostly by myself. I have miles and miles of training to catch up on, places I want to pedal to, and that ever-persistant obligation to fall asleep in bliss and not wake up until late morning. And if that wasn't enough, there are beers to be consumed, Americanos to be sipped, and cookies to be baked and eaten.

Oh, right, and hats to make. Running to the grocery store after a quick post-exam ride, I parked next to a bright red Iro. Coming out of the store, I met its owner, who greeted me with:
"Hey, I know you from the Internet!"
I have to fix a hat for him. I was planning on putting that off until tomorrow, or the next day...but the guilt's winning out. So, I'm starting that tonight...after purging my inbox, a cup of coffee, and being completely lazy.
It's going to be a struggle getting that last one done, though, I can feel it already.

lucky charms

I'm sort of drowning in them. I keep finding them here and there, scattered in odd corners of my apartment.
No, I'm not talking about the cereal.
I understand I may be burned at the stake, but it's not exactly my favorite cereal [it would take a life-changing event to wrench Life from that special place in my heart]. I'm not sure I've actually ever bought a box of it for myself. I'm talking about the charms my Mom's been sending me because she's terrified I'm going to kill myself on my bike.
I attached a commuter-safety-specific one to my bike last winter and lost it two weeks later when, my cross tires clogged with snow, I took a digger on Mass Ave. I guess it worked because I only ended up sliding down the road on my ass, and my knees stayed intact. And while I keep forgetting to ask for another commuter one, my parents are sending them in all shapes and sizes.

To be fair, I've managed to avoid anything involving blood since I've had one on my bag. But with all these choices, I haven't decided which to attach to my saddle. And seized with that indecision, I've chosen to sort of favor the cereal over the small pretty charms.
No, I'm not stuffing my face with Lucky Charms. I do know people who will eat it by the handful, though, savoring those dry, sugary marshmallow lumps. The same people who feel strongly enough about it that they'll get in arguments over the merits of Lucky Charms over Cinnamon Toast Crunch and, if I'm involved, Life.

Maybe it's that fanatical devotion to the packaged cereal that appealed to me. Okay, granted, the picture of Chris on Facebook with this exact jersey on pretty much sold me. When I grabbed it off the sale rack at IBC, Marcus gushed that it had been waiting for the right person to buy it. Well, here I am.
Yes, correct, I rock this. It makes me look absolutely ridiculous. Or just 10 years old. Either way, it's currently my favorite thing to sweat in. It's also the first thing I'm slipping into when I get back from school tomorrow. And oh, will I be sweating.

rolling in place

I don't deserve it so I'm trying not to take one.
A break, that is.
Because that'll free up time to think about things that fuel headaches and cramped shoulders. There's a lot to do in the next 48 hours...and after that I'll be looking at my final year of law school. It might be cause for celebration [although, when I finished my first year and claimed in a Facebook status message that I was "done," my sister pointedly asked how I could be done when I had two more years left], but I'm pretty sure I won't be getting sleep. It never ends, I suppose.
I have a summer to get into shape [and the past two weeks have wrecked havoc on my health], and hats to make, other favors, more projects, and all the other things I can't think about doing right now but I'll agree to do because I'm a total pushover.

So while some classmates are done with exams and will IM me claiming to be completely lost as to what to do with their lives, I'm scrambling. Tuesday, I'll finally be done with school for the year. Tuesday, the skin on my fingertips might finally stop peeling due to too much typing [gross but true]. Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday.
It's something to look forward to, I guess. Still, that damn Tsunami Bomb lyric keeps running through my head on rides to school and back, when I'm zoning out, falling asleep in the library and desperately hoping my best friend will get back on gchat and IM me to keep me up.
"How long 'til I'm my own?"
How long, indeed.