project interbike

[The last in the series, I promise!]
I never really got into Sex and the City, but I did get into Project Runway.
Lack of TV meant that I would watch it whenever I could with my best friend; hanging out at her place always meant a PR DVD viewing. And for someone actually enjoys staying up until 3am battling drafting paper and French curves, it was awesomely fun.
But when the bike entered my life, fashion sort of fell away. Comfort and the ability to pedal efficiently became a priority. Jeans were traded for shorts or leggings, collared shirts for something I wouldn't mind destroying, and necklaces got neglected as I was sure they would get caught on my bag and break to pieces.

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The irony being that even before I got to Interbike, I was obsessed with what the hell I was going to wear. Even if I was assured that it was a convention full of bike nerds in t-shirts.
But come on, this is Vegas! So my little fingers got to work, embellishing an otherwise ordinary white t-shirt into a sequined, Vegas-appropriate, Interbike-appropriate, champion-stripe adorned number. It took a few nights of painful stitching, but once it was done, I was so proud of myself. I was like this is going to be the best t-shirt ever and I totally cannot wait to show my NYC Velo crew!

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Of course, when I finally met up with them, their sole excitement stemmed from the opportunity to stand a 5-foot-4-inch short me next to Tyson, a 6-foot-6-inch tall former employee of NYC Velo and current Portland-based Civilian Bikes framebuilder [have you noticed how NYC Velo seems to be the go-to place for talented bike people?]. But yes, the resulting picture [taken by M1] is hilarious [also, my shoes were killing me].

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What's also funny is that while I had mentally scrunched my nose at wearing t-shirts throughout Interbike, I did exactly that, like every other bike nerd in attendance. But, unlike every other bike nerd, NYC Velo and M1 kept it very interesting.
First, there was the NYC Velo x Jeremy Fish shirt worn by Brett. Then there was the new stem-cap design shirt worn by none other than Mr. A. Crooks. And in a stroke of creative genius [paired with some late-night printing] was the Shimura shirt.

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I'm actually not as flat as that picture makes me look. Really. But regardless, that shirt had people actually staring at my chest and doing double-takes. People came up to talk to me about it. I even felt like a mini celebrity when I showed the guys at Shimano, and about three people pulled out their phones to take a picture.
You know when people say dressing the part is half the battle? It totally is.
Because armed with the confidence this shirt was giving me, I managed to drop my dignity and say hello to Garrett Chow of Mash SF...who, despite the fact that we're Facebook friends, I had never met before. You don't need me to tell you this but he's super nice and was somehow not completely creeped out by my stalkerish behavior.

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But dressing well and looking good can be exhausting. By the time I boarded my flight back to cold, chilly Boston, I felt just like Brett [and his PRO tanlines]. Still, I promised myself that if I make it out there next year, I'll be sure to try and channel a little more Gary Fisher into my wardrobe...

inferiority complex

So I'm still feeding off the trackosaurus-rex-posting-plus-garrett-chow-facebook-friending extravaganza of Monday. I'm not going to lie, that totally made my week life.
Sure, my 15 minutes of fame might already be over, but I was having a hard time thinking up new [blogging] goals. Think Lance after winning the Tour seven times, minus the dating hot models and celebrities [unfortunately]. I sat there, watching the hit count on this blog skyrocket, and patted myself on the back. Go me.
Of course, within 24 hours of that, blowing myself got kind of old. And, like Lance, there's not much that can really get me to give up...well...anything. Besides, there's a bike to be built up, more hats to be made, and I'm convinced that some people out there will continue to be interested in the trials and tribulations of a girl who can barely stay on her first fixed gear.

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Which brings me to the actual bike-riding part of my life. I mean, sure Lance and I could probably make some legit hill-climbing babies...but what about owning those time trials? I'm not saying he's not fast - just that I wouldn't ever want him to slow down [that much] for me. After, you know, [he realizes we were totally meant to be and] we get married.
Actually, I wouldn't want any boy on a bike slowing down for me. Even though I don't so much ride my bike as crawl around on it in traffic. So, like Lance [do you see how we're made for each other?], my competitive side/inferiority complex has gotten me sprinting on my commute.
I may have achieved my personal dream blog goal, but here's to new ones: not running into cars, getting faster, and a larger thigh to arm ratio!

tailwind

A friend asked me a few days ago what exactly would prevent my biking to school - snow? sleet? driving rain?
Embarrassed at admitting the truth, I just shrugged.
Ever since, my weather arch-nemesis - strong, gusty wind - has been making a recurring appearance.
Yesterday morning I felt like I was on a wind resistance trainer, except that there were cars passing by, I was outside, and I had the added pleasure of trying not to sprain my neck while the wind tried to rip my helmet off my head. Oh yeah, and it involved some gasping-fish-out-of-water faces whenever the wind got so bad that I couldn't breathe.

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My thighs, by the time I limped my way to school, felt like someone had put them in a vice and then injected them with battery acid. The worst part was knowing that on the way home, the wind will probably have reversed direction.
But then something unbelievable happened. Something I've sort of fantasized about, but then would immediately try to forget because I figure it'll never happen. But it did. I got featured on trackosaurus rex!!!
My eyes almost popped out of my face when I saw the post. My mind exploded when hit counts on this blog exceeded 400. 600+ and I almost swooned in excitement.
And then Garrett Chow of MASH SF fame accepted my friend request on Facebook.
Headwind be damned, I can now officially die a happy girl [okay, pending building up that Dolan and riding it around first].