early bird

So I did the absurd yesterday. Somehow, I decided it would be an awesome idea to get up at 5.30am and be out the door, on my bike, by 6.30am. Do an easy, breezy 2 hours, shower, pack my bag and head to school for a 10am class.
Um...what?

I almost didn’t. Seriously. I slept in until 5.45am, then had to choke down breakfast [I mean it was delicious - see yesterday’s post - but eating anything before the sun is fully up is kind of hard]. I ended up leaving around 6.45am, still groggy and crusty-eyed.
You know how they say that the first 5 minutes of anything is the hardest part? But like once you get into it, it’s okay? Apparently, as applied to yours truly, “first 5 minutes” means “first 30 minutes.” I was completely hating myself, my ideas, decisions, and legs. The voice in my head was all “but it’s not even 7am yet...! What are you doing? Wahhh wahhhhhhh wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh--“ And then I hit a hill and I didn’t have the energy to complain and kick myself while trying to climb on my one gear. Because keeping your bike upright at 4mph is actually harder than you’d think.

Oh and you know how I said I’d ride 2 hours? Yeah, it turned out to be closer to 2hr30min. It took a while to stretch my legs [see above], and even though I promised myself I’d take it easy, I felt pretty drained on the way back. My feet went numb from the toe clips and wind, snot was everywhere. But the reward of the post-ride shower kept me pedaling and shooting down the hills.
I got home later than I planned [9.15am! Eeeep!], and just barely squeezed in the shower and eyeliner-ing while packing up a smoothie, my lunch, books, and laptop. I stretched briefly before I hopped right back on the bike.
It took me about 20 minutes to get to school. It’s 3 miles away.
Ahahahaha....um....yeah...

power morning

It's 6.15am. When/how/why did I think it would be a good idea to squeeze in a ride this morning?

I have some oatmeal mixed with oat bran, ground flaxseed, cinnamon, and a drizzle of maple syrup to start my engine. And coffee, of course.
See you on the flip siiiide...

sunny unpreparedness

Sorry for the radio silence, peeps! There just really wasn’t much going on last week; I had planned a [geared] ride while I was down in the city, and then it rained. Which sounds like the lamest excuse on the planet but a) Mike only has one set of fenders and b) I lack the proper gear to ride in wet conditions. I did push-ups and Pilates instead.
And then I came back to Boston, fully prepared to hole up in my apartment until cabin fever had me running around my block, screaming a la Linda on Intervention [a.k.a. that Asian woman that was addicted to those painkiller lollipops and who was absolutely insane...did anyone else see that episode? BECAUSE IT WAS INSANE]. I pretended I wanted to be on the rollers again. I tried really hard to act like a law student and get work done. I sighed a lot.
But then...but then...it got warm...!

Like warm enough that I’ll have to quit trying to even call myself a “cyclist” if I didn’t ride. Even if the whole concept of riding outdoors for more than 30min has, by this point, become completely foreign to me, it seemed like the right thing to do. Besides, there wasn’t going to be much wind. Which meant I could probably survive riding some short distance and then pat myself on the back for not wanting to die afterwards. Perfect!
And then I realized I left my shoes, only light windproof jacket, and only light pair of gloves in NYC. Oops.
But realizing that that is the most ridiculous excuse that I’ve come up with thus far, I made up my mind: I was going to go on that damn ride, regardless of whether I looked like a poor hipster or not. Lack of a proper jersey meant that all my tools went into my Baileyworks bag, which went over a black fleece zip up, layered over my long sleeve Underarmour. Shorts went on under Underarmour leggings, paired with Sidi socks, sneakers [um...yeah...don't hate], and my NYC Velo cap. And I was like damnnn, yo, this is like the most pro thing I’ve ever worn, in my life...!

Pro-ed out, I pointed the front wheel southwest towards Dover and did a super easy 2 hours. I waved at some peeps, got some nods and sunglass-ed smiles from other peeps, and still got my ass handed to me on the easy hills. It was refreshing, though, if only in that it wasn’t freezing out and I was perfectly fine in my completely unprepared state.
Of course, I forgot about bringing food. I was starving by the time I got home but a smoothie craving demanded I run to Trader Joe’s to stock up on yogurt. Actually I was starving 1hr30min into my ride but I just really wanted that smoothie. Yes, I thought about the potential embarrassment of walking into a grocery store in the most revealing outfit I own, but somehow I found the idea of spending most of my morning without underwear on mildly appealing.

So 5 hours after I ate breakfast, I blended the shit out of some nonfat greek yogurt [yeah, I'm not vegan anymore], almond milk, hemp protein powder [the unflavored kind that sort of tastes like ground up rope from Bob’s Red Mill...don’t worry, you can’t really taste it], half a banana, and some frozen peach slices. It was delicious, regardless of how disgusting it looks in that picture. And then I inhaled lunch.
I spent the rest of the day rolling out my IT bands and trying not to fall over from sheer exhaustion. Just so I could do it all over again on Sunday, a little more prepared that time around. But more on that tomorrow...
[Please tell me all you Boston people rode this weekend?!]

a vicious cycle

Everyone know the one dude in college [hopefully only in college] who took pride in being the laziest fucker around. Usually he was perpetually enveloped in a cloud of pot smoke, had some sort of reclining chair in his dorm room, and while he’ll travel any distance to score an 1/8th, he couldn’t be bothered to get up early enough to go to his 1pm class. He considered sleeping and smoking his primary jobs. If he bothered to do anything else, he felt entitled to some sort of extra credit from God.
Those types of dudes always fascinate me. And secretly, sometimes, I wish I could be like that. I wish I could kick back and forget about responsibilities and obligations and everything on the ever-growing “to do” list. I like to tell myself that I could get good at the whole slacking off thing. I could roll out of bed past noon, smoke a joint, and then piss away the rest of the day doing pretty much nothing. And I’d enjoy it.

Unfortunately, I have the unusual ability to place myself in exactly the sort of situations that I’m trying to blow off. Officially on spring break [perhaps my very, very last...of my life...eeppp!], I planned to spend most of the week on a particular couch, in front of a particular TV, forsaking a particular laptop and without a particular bike. I had extensive plans to be completely lazy.
Because while I usually revel in any opportunity to put in quality time on my bike, the past few weeks have delivered enough unnecessary school drama, last-minute meetings, and buttloads of work to transform otherwise relaxing bike time into yet another tedious activity that just had to get done. I managed to avoid the rollers in retaliation, but the guilt of doing so stressed me out even more. It was a vicious cycle [pun intended].

So when spring break rolled around last Friday, I had high hopes to be like That Lazy Dude in College. Those plans - predictably - went the way of Lazy Dude Resolutions To Go To Class. The hope was there, but the execution was slightly totally lacking. My plans essentially died yesterday when I ended up at a small table at The Smile, surrounded by a bunch of bicycle people who were talking, thinking, and writing about bicycles.
Last week, even the idea of sitting around discussing bicycles for about an hour would have had me screaming out of frantic stress and running away while ripping my hair out. Yesterday, though, I avoided the embarrassment and permanent label of “absolutely, completely, without a doubt, batshit crazy” [for the most part] by staying seated and civil. Maybe it was just the incredibly yummy granola with yogurt, or the densely dark Americano, but being enclosed in a small space with bicycle people engaged in bicycle talk wasn’t as terrifyingly stressful as I initially feared. In fact, it was almost kind of normal in a fun kind of way.
I’m far from finding that perfect balance [both literally and figuratively], but I have this hopeful feeling I might not spend the season swinging between two extremes when it comes to bikes. Now I just have to work on pedaling faster than 8mph...

velo bento - feb. 25, 2010

A few days ago, Mike sent me a link to this Friskies commercial which is probably the trippiest thing I’ve seen this year. Apparently someone tweeted it, claiming that it might be better than Avatar. I believe it [I haven’t seen Avatar yet!].
I remembered that video yesterday, with the turkeys bowing down and the cows munching away at the grass and the giant fish boat, all participants oblivious to the fact that they were already slaughtered and made into catfood, when I got to school. I was drenched. Soaked. Miserable. But then I pulled out my lunch.
Lunch! Yum!

Yes, I love food. I think we all do. I have a theory that even those with eating disorders love food; they just haven’t figured out a way to manage that love. It’s like going into priesthood because you can’t get away from the all-too-human desire to bone hot chicks. But back to food - I love it, you love it, cyclists all love it. And because I’m Japanese I like to put it in containers and carry it around. And blog about it.
Because putting containers of food on your back and transporting it via bike can result in some interesting stuff. So while my lunches haven’t achieved the status of “bento” [I think that requires more thought and effort; my mom set the standard high in our family], I’m convinced everyone wants to see what I’m nom nom nomming on. And to keep it interesting, I’m posting what it looks like before and after the short commute to school.
Yesterday was mixed greens [I could live off that stuff], topped with spicy tofu, some avocado, and grape tomatoes [sorry about the pink-ish light in the above picture]. That got double bagged with an orange, then carefully placed on top of my laptop, book, change of clothes, and essentials. Of course, by the time I got to school, it looked like this:

It looks so sad, I know! But well tossed, right? FYI, despite how it looks, it was pretty delicious.
I’m working on better containers [I love containers]. And more interesting meals. I doubt they’ll ever be as cool as my mom’s, or induce hallucinations and highs like Friskies might, but you’ll get to hear all about it. Oh, and if you know any container makers in China or something, let me know. I have a few ideas...

a mixed bag

Other than the whole addiction to work thing, my mom and I are not that similar. She’ll mention that we are when both of us are somehow awake at 3am, pursuing our passions, but at first glance, I’m much more my father’s daughter. On the other hand, people don’t have a hard time recognizing my sister as one of my mother’s daughters. Me, they express slight surprise and search my face for similar features. And meanwhile I’m like well, I don’t think I’m adopted...?
But if you judged only by my and my mother’s addiction to shoes and handbags, we are clearly of the same genetic material.
My closets at home are bursting with bags of all shapes, sizes, colors, and textures. My mother and I vie for space to cram our plethora of shoes. It’s a friendly obsession that we share...until, of course, space gets tight. Then we point out the unused parts of our respective collections while we simultaneously try to hoard as many bags or shoes as possible. My mom once advised me to pick one to focus on: shoes or bags. I asked her why she got to do both. [She claimed that she chose shoes, but I’m not buying it.]

I still have a huge box full of bags here in my small apartment, but these days, the choices are slim. And when the weather forecast tells me that it’s going to rain/snow all week, the choices dwindle even further.
I have, as you may have noticed, two main ones: the giant Ortlieb and the small Baileyworks. Both have protected my life laptop from the harsh elements thrown at me by cars full of teenage boys and the wheels of huge trucks blowing through slush or giant pools of water. I love both, too, and if you have stronger arms and shoulders [thank you military presses, push-ups, and planks], neither is an issue even on a bike with more aggressive geometry. But when you know the sky is going to dump large amounts of water on you all week, and that therefore you’ll be carrying not only your essentials [laptop, books, lunch, tools], but also your entire wardrobe on your back, you really sort of start wanting at least a rear rack. And then you start to wish you had panniers, which is kind of a bad thing, because that is a slippery slope, people.

I know, I know, it’s not a bad thing, per se. The thing is, if I’m going to be in the dorkiest attire in the entire world [read: rainpants] this week, arriving at school with eyeliner down to my chin, the last thing I’m going to be seen with are a pair of saddlebags draped across my rear wheel [I have enough of those on my hips? HA HA...okay I set myself up for that one]. I have enough trouble as it is sneaking into a bathroom - one of those with only one stall so you can completely lock people out - unseen, trying to creep there unnoticed while those damn rainpants swiiisshhh, swiiishhh like some extreme dork alert. At that point, panniers would not only slow me down, but spell instant death to any presumption that cycling can actually be cool.
Not that my classmates would know or care if I was seen with panniers. They’ll probably just say, “oh, is that a new bag?” and be on their way. But it’s the principle of the thing. Just like I wouldn’t ask you to wear a helmet or a jersey that doesn’t match your bike [the horror...the horror...say it like Brando]. Yeah, I might be obsessed/addicted/whatever, but who said that precluded looking good...or at least less dorky?