And now for something really different

Dairy-Free Gluten-Free Pumpkin Flan

 1 1/2 cups sugar, divided (if coconut sugar is available, use that for flan)

2 cups reduced to 1.5 cups full-fat coconut milk
1 cup pumpkin puree
4 large eggs
2 large egg yolks
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp each: nutmeg, clove, allspice
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 tsp salt

1.      Place the oven rack about ¾ of the way up in the oven. Set your water bath by placing a large baking dish or roasting pan on the top rack, and then set a 9-inch pie plate into that larger baking dish. Pour hot water into the dish to go 1/2 way up sides of pie plate. Remove pie plate and close the oven. Preheat to 350°F.    

2.      In a small heavy sauce pan, cook coconut milk over high heat until it comes to a boil, then reduce to active simmer until it reduces by ¼. Let cool.

3.      To make caramel: add 3/4 cup of the sugar and 1/4 cup water to (another) small heavy saucepan. Cook over high heat (do not stir) until mixture comes to a full boil. Slightly swirl pan as needed to help incorporate ingredients.  

4.     Reduce heat to active simmer and cook until caramelized sugar turns amber (about 15 minutes). Watch pot carefully as the sugar will turn from amber to black quickly!

5.      Best with two people: one person uses hot pads (IMPORTANT as burned sugar is HOT) and holds the pie plate as the other carefully pours and scrapes the caramel into it. Swirl to coat the bottom of the pie plate. The caramel will harden quickly. Set aside.

6.     (This can be done while the caramel is cooking or after): Add the remaining 3/4 cup sugar (or coconut sugar), cooled reduced coconut milk, pumpkin, eggs, yolks, spices, extract and salt to a mixing bowl or blender. Mix well.           

7.     Gently pour pumpkin mixture into the pie plate on top of the caramel. Place the plate in the center of the water bath. Bake for 60 minutes or until a thin knife inserted in middle comes out clean (my last one took 70). Cool flan in baking dish on wire rack. Place in the refrigerator for at least one hour or overnight.

8.     (This can be very dramatic, so make sure you have an audience.) To serve, heat bottom of flan in hot water for 2-3 minutes. Remove from water and run a thin knife around the inside edge of pie plate. Say a prayer. Quickly invert pie plate onto serving dish. Tap or shimmy the pie plate to release flan. Scrape any escaping caramel sauce onto flan with rubber spatula.

Where I've Never Been Before

"I want to be where I've never been before.
I want to be there and then I'd understand;
Know I'm right and do it right--
Could I get to be like that?
I'll know what I don't know with nothin more to gain.
Will I get better or stay the same?
I find I always move too slowly."

--Guster, "Two Points for Honesty."

"You are... AN IRONMAN!"

Around 7:11 PM on the evening on Saturday, October 17th, I crossed the finish line at Ironman Maryland with a final time of 11 hours, 28 minutes, and 59 seconds. That was about a half hour faster than my *super-secret* time goal of 12 hours. The minor asterisk is that due to TERRIBLE WINDS and a SMALL CRAFT ADVISORY on Saturday morning, the race was delayed by about 45 minutes so the officials could set up a slightly short (sad face) more safe (happy face) swim course. My coach did the math and applied my average swim pace to the usual Ironman swim distance, and came up with a "distance-adjusted" finish time of 11:45:00.

I'll take it. I'll also take 7th place in my Age Group. Woop woop!

I won't bore you with the minute by minute details of the race, but I'll share some highlights, since you have followed this far!

Friday debacles galore, from minor bike damage in transport, to re-mounting (boyfriend)'s Garmin so I could see my power data in a better eye-line, to losing my athlete wristband. "Better to get all the bullish*t out of the way today!" I joked. The forecast was pretty awful, with a high of 58, morning lows in the 40's, with clouds and wind. "Better to take a few extra minutes putting more clothes on in transition than to get hypothermia and have to pull out of the race." I packed almost everything I had and delivered my transition bags. My sis et al arrived in time for dinner, and my ritualistic single glass of red wine was consumed (quickly). Sleep wasn't too elusive, either.

Saturday, oatmeal and coffee o'clock was 3:45 AM, and my chauffeur, err, sister, delivered (boyfriend) and me to the race site at 5:15 AM. With bags packed and bike set, there isn't really all that much to do on Ironman morning compared with other triathlons... so by 6:00 AM I was heading out of transition and a little short on activity to occupy my brain. I went for my warm up run at 6:15 to prime my asthmatic lungs and calm my anxious brain. Family arrived and found me just in time for the announcement that the swim would be shortened. I said a bad word in front of my nephew.

"You will still be an Ironman," the announcer said. "We still have Kona slots." These are important words to an anxious crowd about to race. (Boyfriend) distracted me by making me take photos for my sponsors, Hincapie Sportswear. By the time the new swim course was set, the winds had calmed, and the new distance was extended from 1.2 miles to 3000 meters, just short of 2 miles. Okay, whatever, let's just start the party already!!

The order of my strengths in triathlon events is decisively in this order: bike, run, swim. I'm not last out of the water, but I'm certainly not first, and I've had attacks of hyperventilation in open water more than twice. For me to say "the swim was really fun" and likely the event that was LEAST impacted by the ridiculous winds from the north... you know what's coming next. This was definitely the most crowded swim I've done, and the chop was quite noticeable by the finish, but it was easy to sight the buoys, and I swam strong and consistently. Getting out of the 63-degree water into the 47-degree air was a wake up call.

Swim time: 1:01:44
Place after swim: 31
Transition to bike time: 14:07 (sweet baby deity)

The women's changing tent was hilarious. Lots of freezing, wet, unclothed women trying to pull on layers and layers of clothing before heading out for several hours of cold windy riding... yeah. I was thrilled I decided to add a base layer and knee warmers to my T1 bag that morning. I wore a full Hincapie cycling kit with arm warmers, gloves, knee warmers, and toe covers. And... I was still freezing. We headed out south with a tail wind, and it was fun to see 26 mph and 110 watts on the computer, but that lasted about 8 miles, and then we were smacked with crosswinds and headwinds and crosswinds. I tried to maintain 20 mph average, but when I popped watts too often, I remembered the wise words of a friend who reminded me to be patient with my race and to keep the demons at bay. I cursed at the wind. I told it to F-off. "You won't ruin my race, you demon wind!" I yelled. Because "Plan A is: it's all about the run." And so is Plan B. And Plan C. And... Plan Q.

"Marathon legs," I told myself. "You have to get off this bike with marathon legs." I dialed back the gears, picked up the cadence, and let the miles per hour fall a bit, if reluctantly.

Memorable moments from the bike:
Multiple compliments on my socks (neon and teal stripes, shout out to my stylist(boyfriend)).
Guy on bike as I'm passing him: "Wow, I'm actually getting chicked right now." Me: "I hear that happens sometimes."
Me, to guy I'm passing at mile 105, heading due north into the wind at the SUPER SPEEDY pace of.... 13.8 miles per hour. "How about another hundred-and-five miles of headwind? Does that sound like a plan?" Guy: "I MEAN F*CK THIS!"
SHOUT OUT to Rebecca Allyn who returned the hug I gave her in Bike Special Needs at Ironman Arizona 2014. Along with the hug, my salt and vinegar potato chips and a Starbucks iced coffee hit the spot.

By the time I got back to transition, my cheer squad had been waiting close to 45 minutes. The Ironman tracking went haywire for most of the bike, so they arrived for my earliest possible dismount. Turns out only one woman in my Age Group went under 5:30 that day, so I don't feel too terrible about it. I had hoped for a slightly speedier bike time, but I stuck to the plan, stayed patient with my race, and ate a lot and drank a lot. And then it was marathon time!

Bike time: 5:47:54
Place after bike: 12

I did a complete change in T2. See previous: "I drank a lot." I was a wee bit over-hydrated on the bike. Pun intended. Interpret what you will. It's a badge of honor, and I will never deny it. ;)

Transition to run time: 10:05 (sheesh, really?)

Being able to run the marathon with healthy hips was a huge goal of mine this season, considering where I was 2 years ago. Having to walk 26.2 miles on a femoral stress fracture was... humbling. This time it was indeed ALL ABOUT THE RUN.

The Ironman Maryland marathon was FULL OF LOVE... oh, and headwinds. I saw my family and (boyfriend) coming out of transition, and then Ed Moser and Adam and Holli--good friends from DC Tri Club! Then I high fived Mackenzie, who was a few miles ahead of me. Then HUGS from bestie Heather at the Annapolis Tri Club aid station at Mile 2. I make it a point to spread the love around on the run, so I lovingly smacked the bums of people who had slowed down to walk in those first 5 miles, telling them "You got this." A 62-year-old guy almost lost it when I did that. Then more HUGS from Heather back through the aid station. Then flying hugs for Adam and Holli. Then cheers from Cat Myung in a Hot Dog costume and Robin Myers about a mile before the corner where my family camped out (high fives from the kiddo and a kiss for my honey)! The 2.5-loop course meant high-fiving Hugh three times, getting different signs and cheers every time I passed my family, and then at mile 21, seeing PAMELA who had literally just gotten off a plane at Dulles from Hawaii where she had been supporting our friend Bryan at world championships. She ran with me through about half of mile 24 and said she had to speed to get there because I was going too fast. When I passed my family at the corner at Mile 25, and yelled at them to get their butts to the finish line. :)

Entertaining details: I completely threw my nutrition plan out the window. I forgot to grab my handheld bottle out of T2 (duh) which forced me to walk through almost all of the MANY aid stations. For some reason, potato chips and bananas and water seemed like a good idea, and a few bites of each and quick sips held me through the first 13 miles. I've learned to let my brain make nutrition decisions (and NOT my stomach), so when I got to the second half, I alternated Pepsi and watermelon GU Chomps with chicken broth and potato chips from every other aid station, and that worked really well. It sounds disgusting, I know. I mean, artificial watermelon is about the most foul flavor on earth (second only to artificial "green apple" which tastes absolutely nothing like an apple). Folks unfamiliar with Ironman on-course nutrition will probably be grossed out by the chicken broth concept, but it works. The aid station at mile 20 had SWEDISH FISH, my all-time FAVORITE CANDY, and so I grabbed a giant handful of those, no shame.

The funny thing about racing is that the closer you get to the finish, the more damaged your brain is, and the more likely you are to attempt complex math to figure out "Just how fast do I have to run to make my goal time...? Divide by 6, carry the 1... Wait. Start over." When I looked at my watch with just about 3.5 miles to go and I was still under 11 hours... I thought, "Well, shoot. I could walk and still beat 12 hours." But I didn't walk anymore after that.

On my last turn around the corner where my cheer squad was parked, (boyfriend) said, "Get it!" He had done the math, too. And he was in on the secret goal. As I made the final turn through town, I heard some athletes talking about how they were going to space themselves out so they could each get their names called as they came through the chute. I thought, "Well I'll just run faster and go first to get out of your way." So I did. ;)

Run time: 4:15:09
Place after run: 7


Ohhhhhkay that was more detail than I planned. Hope I didn't bore you.

Thank you for your constant love and support! I'm announcing my OFFICIAL RETIREMENT from the FULL IRONMAN DISTANCE, on account of, I LOVE YOU ALL and I LOVE MY LIFE. The "half Iron" distance is a bit more manageable, fun, and sane, and Ironman70.3 races will be my focus. I'll be racing Ironman70.3 Boulder on June 11, 2016 and Ironman70.3 World Championships in Australia on September 4, 2016, and enjoying life and riding my bicycle with (boyfriend) in between.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

Love,

Abby

Don't Miss The Point

"The wood is tired and the wood is old,
and we'll make it fine if the weather holds.
But if the weather holds,
then we'll have missed the point;
that's were I need to go." 
--Indigo Girls, "The Wood Song."

On Wed, Oct 14, 2015 at 12:19 PM, Abby wrote:

If you will forgive me for getting all philosophical one more time...

Late on Monday, October 5th, the race directors confirmed that, for the first time in the 37-year history of Ironman, a race would indeed be rescheduled, and Ironman Maryland would run two weeks later on October 17th.

The day after the day after tomorrow.

And so two weeks have passed, like they always do, one 24-hour day at a time. Staying mentally focused and physically healthy has been an active process for me. I've been trying to sleep a lot (some success, some NOT). I've nearly overdosed on Vitamin C. Mentally, I've had some ups and downs. Up: getting to ride the 85-mile course of Levi's Gran Fondo and cheer for my boyfriend and his friend as they crushed the century on October 3rd. Down: waking up on October 4th and having a 2.5-hour run on the training plan when I was *supposed to be done.* :)

"The Wood Song" has popped into my head almost everyday.

This delay, this unexpected additional challenge, is exactly what Ironman is about for me.

I've trained a lot. I've done lots of amazing and fun long rides, some hard-to-believe-I-swam-that far sessions in the pool, and ENOUGH long runs. I've also raced a lot in the past several years. I've learned a lot about how to manage myself, what my physical limitations are, and what both "success" (standing on the podium!! qualifying for Worlds!!) and "failure" (panic attacks in the water, cramping on the run, flats on the bike) look like. Without a doubt, I have *super-secret* time goals for each portion of this race, known only by my coach and boyfriend.... if everything goes according to plan.

But that's the thing about Ironman. Kinda nothing is going to go exactly as we imagine. All we can hope is that we've prepared ourselves for the physical challenge, we've planned what we will do in a variety of scenarios, and we have the basic skill set and arsenal of tricks to manage whatever happens when the weather doesn't hold.

Speaking of weather: thankfully Joaquin didn't make landfall, and thankfully Dorchester County, Maryland, has extensive experience producing long distance triathlons. Also to note: for athletes who couldn't make it back for the rescheduled event, Ironman offered other options. Not everyone will be happy or satisfied, but it's hard to argue with Mother Nature.

Mother Nature is offering up a much chillier day than I would prefer for riding my bike really fast, but it should be an AWESOME DAY for a long run!

I'm SUPER grateful that my family was able to flex their plans, and they will all be in Cambridge to ring bells for me in their custom "Ironmom," "Irondad," "Ironsis," "Ironnephew," and "IronBIL" shirts. I am almost without words at how awesome it is that my cheering squad will now also include "IronBF." Thank you for making the trek, love!

Thank you for your constant support!!

Abby

__________________________________________________________
"Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom.
Mastering others is strength, mastering yourself is true power."
~Lao-Tzu

On Thu, Oct 1, 2015 at 10:25 AM, Abby wrote:

The plane that I was supposed to be on has departed SFO, and I'm unexpectedly at my desk at work today. As you may or may not have heard, the race directors announced yesterday that "Ironman Maryland will not take place this Saturday."

On account of heavy pre-event rainfall and the projected path of Hurricane Joaquin, emergency officials in Maryland determined that they could not guarantee their availability to properly monitor the race because they might be called to deal with hurricane-related circumstances. Further, the area may need to be evacuated, and bringing a bunch of athletes and spectators to the area would be counter to that directive, if given.

For the safety of the athletes, spectators, volunteers and support crew, it was wise (IMHO) for the race directors to make this decision.

The race has been tentatively rescheduled for Saturday, October 17, pending an evaluation of the area once the storm passes. I have already changed my plane ticket, and my dad was able to reschedule our accommodations. Cross fingers that Joaquin settles down or heads east.

Many people have reached out to see "how I am" considering this turn of events. My friend Naomi, who is also racing, put it aptly: "Bummed but dealing." After many months of training, it's a bit of a head fake to not race this weekend. But, Mother Nature will have her way, and there is not much gained in the wringing of hands or shedding of tears.

True statement: I don't want to do an Ironman in a hurricane. :) The thought of the swim/ride in gale force winds and rain is scary.

Another true statement: I don't want my friends and family to spectate in a hurricane!

So... What now??

I'm both hopeful and relatively confident that the race will indeed run on October 17. Though I had a really good taper going, I will pull back in the training plan (per coach's instructions) to "one more big weekend" and roll back into taper mode next week.

Staying healthy remains my #1 goal--no illness, no injury--so if you have any pull with the Up-Above, consider requesting GRACEFUL LANDINGS, both of the hurricane and its descent upon the East Coast, and of my feet upon the ground for

JUST TWO MORE WEEKS.

I will keep you posted.

Love,
Abby

From: Abby
Date: September 29, 2015 at 06:29:58 PDT
Subject: Ironman Maryland: Gratitude and Grace!

Dear friends and family,
It’s hard to believe that in just 4 short days I will be finally racing Ironman Maryland. It has been quite a journey since the last time I completed this distance. Many of you know that I suffered a stress fracture in my left femur, diagnosed just 10 days before Ironman Mont-Tremblant in 2013. Despite the injury, my heart wanted to finish that race badly, so I swam, biked, and walked (yes, the whole marathon) to the finish line. I was proud of myself for not giving up on something I had worked so hard for, even though it didn’t go exactly as I imagined. I ran (without pain) for the last 500 meters, and I heard Mike Reilly call me an Ironman.

My good friend Kris and I used to philosophize about how “triathlon is like life” because you never really know what is going to happen, and you just have to deal with it. Swim on, pedal on, keep putting one foot in front of the other—no matter what obstacles or hardships come your way—and the finish line will eventually come. I often joke that one of the reasons I am a good government employee is because I’m an endurance athlete—when most people would give up on a cause, I’m just getting started. An endurance athlete knows that success is measured in millimeters.

On Saturday October 3, I’m hoping to string together 2.26274e+8 millimeters, err, 140.6 miles of swimming, biking, and running through Cambridge, Maryland, at the 3rd running of Ironman Maryland. This time, I will be healthy at the starting line!

If you care to follow my progress, I will be racing bib #683, and there will be an Athlete Tracker and live finish line coverage on the Ironman web page. http://www.ironman.com/triathlon/events/americas/ironman/maryland.aspx
The journey to the starting line of this race has been fairly typical Ironman training, as I can tell. I’ve been exhausted, elated, excited, panicked, and all in all, I had a good case of the “Ironman Crazies." I venture that anyone training for Ironman experiences the gamut of emotion and stress, and while getting sick at 6 weeks out and crashing (quite badly) at 5 weeks out challenged me mentally and physically, all this pales in comparison to what others have overcome on their journey to the starting line.

Thus I will begin my gratitudes!

To my coach, Rob Falk, for absolute unwavering faith in me as an athlete from the first moment we met. For a consistent attitude of, “Well, duh,” when I perform well at races. For applauding my success at taking rest days above all other accomplishments. Thank you for always replying to my panicky text messages. Thank you for putting Ironman 70.3 World Championships on the 2016 calendar already. (PS: Add Boulder 70.3. June 11.)

To my mother, for finally understanding—45 races later—that triathlon is indeed survivable. Thank you for reading the athlete guide from cover to cover.

To my father, for finding a sweet house for all of us to stay in for the race, and to my sister, her husband, and my nephew (and mom and dad!), for wearing hot pink shirts with my name on them and ringing cowbells all day. You have no idea what it feels like to have “people” there for you. Thank you for coming.

To Heather, who is my kindred spirit in song and in racing, thank you for volunteering!! Please be prepared to deliver hugs when I see you at the aid stations.

To Kyrsten, for being a badass, and reminding me that I am a badass whenever I need it—work, life, triathlon. Thank you to you and Lindsey (and Kyle) for forcing me to go to Lake Stevens roll downs. Thank you for knowing exactly what to say no matter what the situation. Because, America. GO KICK SOME KONA BUTT, YOU BADASS!! (And same to Dana, and to Lindsey at IMAZ!!)

To Kortney, for racing Ironman Arizona so I had a reason to go last year and decide not to race that race. :) Thank you for your friendship, your support, and for a ride to the airport. You are a champion in so many ways. :)

To Blythe and Norm, for cleaning me up after my crash! I am grateful for the opportunity to get to know you better, and let’s hear it for iodine and tequila! I am lucky I was so close to your house when it happened.

To my roommate, Jenn, for general tolerance. And for forgiving me for occasionally snitching milk for my coffee. I always apologized! :)

To my coworkers, for never questioning my damp hair and lack of make up. Thank you for putting up with me, especially these last few weeks! Highest volume of training in the most stressful work times ever? Because, Ironman.

And last but certainly not least, to my boyfriend. For... everything. For thinking 4:30AM alarm clocks are acceptable, and for the sunrise bike rides that followed. For never letting me go on a long ride alone. For singing Marine drills or Jefferson Starship when the climbs were just too long. For stopping to take selfies. For salt and vinegar potato chips. For gadgets and data. For recovery drinks and green drinks and drinks with vodka in them. For believing in me. For tolerating the Ironman crazies. Your support has been unfathomable. May your legs carry you quickly to the finish line of the Levi’s Gran Fondo so you can obsessively hit refresh on Ironman.com to watch me cross the finish line on the internet. ;)

I have two general platitudes to the Up-Above: grace to walk my chosen path no matter the adversity, and gratitude for assistance to the other side. Ironman is far from graceful, and in the ups and downs of my journey to the starting line, I’m sure I have faltered in my goal of grace in adversity. For this I ask your forgiveness.
I am grateful for your support.

Let’s do this.

Love,
Abby

Make It Good

"In this proud land we grew up strong
We were wanted all along
I was taught to fight, taught to win
I never thought I could fail

No fight left or so it seems
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted
I've changed my face, I've changed my name
But no one wants you when you lose

Don't give up
'Cause you have friends
Don't give up
You're not beaten yet
Don't give up
I know you can make it good."

--Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush, "Don't Give Up."

Last September at the Big Kahuna Half Iron Distance Triathlon, (now the Ironman Santa Cruz 70.3), I got third place in W35-39.

And I was shocked (shocked!). I hadn't even checked the results.

I had only attended the Age Group awards ceremony because my friend Kortney was being awarded third place in W30-34. I had just snapped some photos of her on the podium, and I was walking away when the announcer started reading the times for W35-39. When I heard the third place time, the thought in my head was "DANG! I was so close! My time was very similar to..."

And then I heard my name called. The photos of me on the podium capture me doubled over in laughter. When I heard the time called for the woman in second place, laughter turned to a sigh of regret. She was only 61 seconds faster than me. In a race that took us each about 5 hours and 43 minutes to finish, 61 seconds is a drop in the bucket.

I was mentally kicking myself, because in my heart of hearts, I knew that I could have easily found 61 seconds on that course (and remarkably, not all of them in T1!).

I knew deep down that there were two times on the course where I gave up on myself and took my foot off the proverbial gas.

I had a tough day out there, much tougher than I was expecting. I'm not suggesting that I would ever think a half iron distance triathlon is easy. It's not. It's 1.2 miles of swimming (and that race, my first "true" ocean swim), 56 miles on the bike, and then a half marathon run. Not easy ever. I was in pretty stellar shape, I started the race in a good mental place, and I had the impression that the course was "just what I liked:" rolling hills and flat-ish run.

Not so much.

I set a personal record on my swim that day--though the official time says I swam like 41 minutes or something, it includes the fairly long run from the beach to the transition. Out of the water in under 40 on a half is ridiculafast for me. Celebrate good times, come on!

But then I hit the bike--usually my strongest leg of the race--and I was immediately struck by the conditions. The course was an out-and-back on Highway 1, and we had a tailwind with a net descent to the turnaround. I was torn between maximizing my strength (bombing a hill) and saving energy for what I knew would be a tough return. Rather than a course of rolling hills, we were challenged with long stretches of low-grade descents and climbs. This equates to a loss of momentum and sloggy grinding.

About 3/4 of the way up one of those slogs, I mentally threw in the towel. Of course I had to keep turning the pedals over lest I FALL DOWN, but in my mind, I told myself "this isn't happening today."

Once on foot, I slogged through a hilly dirt path. When I saw other athletes already on their way back from the turnaround, I gave up again. I saw my near-9-minute splits (slow for me), shrugged, and told myself I was "only in it for the scenery anyway," and I smiled genuinely at the beauty of the views from the cliffs over Santa Cruz.

I crossed the finish line and jumped in the ocean.

When I saw the final results, I discovered that I actually had the fastest bike split of any woman 35-39. And the second place woman only beat me on the run by a few seconds.

Son of a gun.

Coach Rob said, "If you're having a tough day out there, everyone is."

And, "Always check the results." Noted, sir.

I will be racing the Ironman St. George 70.3 race in 10 days, and I considered giving up on the race. The past few months have been unexpectedly difficult. In February, the thought flickered across my head that I would CRUSH IT, that it was an "A Race," and that I might even set a personal record on the half distance.

Life had a different idea for me. The stress of living in San Francisco has worn me down. I broke down mentally and emotionally long ago, but kept trying to pretend that I was holding it together. A human being (which, to my chagrin, I am) can only compartmentalize mental and emotional stress for a short time before it begins to take a physical toll.

Stomach troubles.
Sleep troubles.
Iron deficiency.
Energy... bottoms out.

Moving.
Training.
Doctor appointments and procedures.
Car woes.
Apartment hunting.
Stress.

I nearly gave up on a lot of things in the past few months.

A friend (who cares about me) suggested that I consider backing out on St. George. And I considered it.

I'm going. It's not going to be my fastest race. I likely won't win the bike for my age group, or PR my swim. But deep down, my love of racing has never been dependent on whether I stand on a podium. It's a new course in a beautiful place in my "home" state, and a dear friend will be traveling to support me.

I'm not giving up on myself. I might be approaching this race like it is a very expensive, well-organized training day, but I'm not giving up. I'm not going to hurt myself, either. I will get through it, just as I have the challenges of the past few months.

Race day is the best day!

See you out there.




 

RIDE HINCAPIE!

Photos of me cycling for my RIDE HINCAPIE application!

This Is F*cking Awesome

"I'm gonna pop some tags

Only got twenty dollars in my pocket

I'm huntin'
Lookin' for a come up
This is fucking awesome."

--Mackelmore, "Thrift shop."

There are many, many songs that I have considered to open this particular blog post (see vault: all start with a lyric).

Considerations included:
"Miles and Miles," by The Who, and "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)," by the Proclaimers. Too obvious.

I also considered opening with some of the songs that were in my head for excessive periods of time during the soon-to-be-detailed adventure. These include (in no particular order):
"Cool Change," by the Little River Band.
"Best Day of My Life," American Authors.
"Born to Be Wild," Steppenwolf.
"Here I Go Again," Whitesnake.
"Freefalling," Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.
"Party in the USA," Miley Cyrus (not kidding).
"Titanium," Madilyn Bailey.

The list goes on, but I will stop here. Ok yes, there was some Taylor Swift in there.

So, I'm sure you're wondering, "Well, it was crazy enough that you were going to do this 375-mile Coast Ride thing, but what the EFF made you bike 500 miles, adding a 4th unsupported day?"

Answer:
"Because this is fucking awesome."
And like a true cyclist, I had $20 in my pocket. In a plastic baggie.

Early on day 2 it was decided. To set the scene: before embarking on the journey, Robin and I had only ever ridden next to each other on stationary bikes. I think there was suspicion that we might be relatively evenly matched, but as it turns out, the only other person I've been able to bike that many miles with so consistently is Huxley. I'm 100% positive she was slowing down to ride with me. ("But that's good Zone 2 training," she'd say. "And you don't complain." And then boys would pass us on a ride and she would pull out this power gear and chase them down and show them who's boss, and I would just watch in awe. Of course she always came back for me, so I forgave her. But she's the boss. And I digress.)

A lot of random conversations happen when you bike 500 miles with someone.

Climbing into Big Sur south of Monterey, Robin says, "We should just go all the way to LA."

The decision process took about as long as it is taking you to read this sentence.

Me: "That would be fucking awesome." And the next thought took about as long to form as this sentence took to write.

Me (again): "Dude, we should just bike to Kortney."

And then that was it. We'd figure out the logistics. Change the rental car. Bike to LAX.

Separately our brains had each done the math. 375 miles to Santa Barbara was three days of 125 miles each. Los Angeles wasn't that far from Santa Barbara. 475 miles is lame. 500 miles is fucking awesome. We had to bike a full 500 miles.

As he said it, I was already nodding. Yes, yes. 500 miles. We will bike a 4th day all the way to 500 miles. We will change the rental car to Long Beach. No, wait, that means driving across LA in traffic. Nix that. We will bike down to Redondo Beach or Hermosa Beach or however far we need to go so that when we turn around, we will hit LAX at 500 miles. Ok, go!

But wait, but why, again, now? Bike 500 miles, why?

It goes something like this:
Fair weather: check.
Plenty of vacation time and a boss who gets it: check.
Fantastic biking partner/friend: check.
Beautiful friend to receive us at the end: check.
Legs that can handle the effort: check.
Opportunity to bike 500 miles right-here-right-now-make-a-decision:

ON Y VA!

Facebook is deceptive, and perhaps I'm guilty of playing into that deception. I've been afraid to be fully honest with how much I have been struggling to adjust to life in San Francisco. On Facebook, there are a lot of photos of adventures and random political rantings. In an effort to NOT further alienate this city where I feel like a space alien most of the time, I have been incredibly censored in what I post. I'm recently starting to open up to people near and far about the challenges I've been having. I've been seeking gratitude (as an attitude), and I generally find it OUTSIDE, and often on my BIKE. Learning to JUST LET GO and STOP TRYING SO HARD and STOP TRYING TO CONTROL EVERYTHING is very difficult. One of the things I love most about riding and racing is the fact that so many things are outside of my control, and all I can do is cheer myself on.

The decision to GO was freeing, liberating. I was giddy at the decision. I was all, "FUCK IT. Imma RIDE MY BIKE 500 Miles."

This is not a very traditionally Abby thing to do.

Propers to Robin. A rare soul could put me at ease enough to go for it.

And now, for the blow by blow.

Day 1. San Francisco to Monterey.

Day 1 cue sheet

With my backpack on my back, and my housekeys in my seat bag, I rolled out the door at about 6:45 AM. Along the way, I coincidentally ran into my dear friend Sally, who was my hotel buddy for the trip. We chatted a bit on the 1.5-mile ride to Sports Basement in the Presidio, where the Coast Ride began. I was a bit anxious, not sure if I could do this 375-mile ride. I was determined not to get sucked into the fast groups. I knew that I could reasonably hang with them for shorter rides, but if I was going to make it the whole way, I would have to go a comfortable pace. I was nervous about flats and snacks and whether I had enough light for riding after dark. Most really long rides are in the summer, so you have enough daylight to complete the mileage. The "Total 200" ride in DC is done on the longest (or next-longest) Saturday of the year, usually at the end of June, near the Solstice. And here we are about to embark on multiple century-plus rides in January. Lights were going to be necessary, or so I thought. As it turns out, Robin and I were able to reel it in before dark on 3 out of the 4 days. Our stoppage time on the 4th day will be accounted for later. Please continue.

courtesy Sally Mitchell

It was a bit chilly that Saturday morning, and clothing decisions were difficult. Wear too little and be miserable (especially for someone with serious Raynaud's). Wear too much and have a humpback for most of the ride. We signed our USA Cycling waivers (on which I had to write my 2015 race age for the first time. Thirty nine. Fuck that.). I drank some coffee, ate a banana, threw my bag on the truck, and bought a new light (500 lumens, w00t). After what seemed an unreasonably lengthy amount of time fucking around at Sports Basement waiting for a group photo that didn't happen, Robin, Sally and I decided to roll.

Sports Basement, pre-ride

The hammering began early.

After losing Sally in Seacliff, I tried to stick with Robin. But he's a boy, and boys like to go fast. I was working too hard and I knew it. Thankfully, there were some amazing descents coming out of Daly City so I could catch up. Found Robin. We had wagered in jest over who was a bigger downhill daredevil. Bombing down a hill is "my jam." I am very "aero" and very flexible, and I can pretty much bend myself under my handlebars with my a$$ in the air, making myself like a sportscar with a spoiler, and control a technical descent like I'm skiing. But Robin has 20 pounds on me. As it turned out--in the 500 miles down the coast--there were certain descents that favored mass and certain descents that favored aerodynamics. Thankfully, we were both skilled enough cyclists to maneuver safely around each other if one needed to pass to maximize the bombing.

Because the bombing must be maximized.

Apparently I missed a stop sign on one of those magical descents out of Daly City, because I turned around and Robin was gone. WTF did he crash? I stopped riding and asked people if they had seen an accident. No crashes reported. Was he in front of me and I missed him? I didn't know what to do. I called. Phone off. Texted. No "delivered" notification. Hoping for the best, I got back on my bike and started riding.

Eventually I grouped up with some other people, and I started chatting with a younger woman from Emeryville. She was sweet, chatty, and a good cyclist. We stuck together, passing others, all the way to the lunch spot in Davenport, where upon arrival, I saw Robin, who had been there at least 10-15 minutes. Apparently he stopped at the sign I blew through and took a different turn.

Davenport, CA lunch stop

I quickly ate a fish taco (dripping with salsa-y deliciousness), pounded some Diet Coke (yep), filled my water bottles, and dropped some layers in the Sag truck. It got warm! Knowing that it's easier to ride in a group than alone, Robin and I decided to hop into a train of about 8 others. When I saw the Every Man Jack and M2 kits, I feared the worst. But Robin had a cue sheet, and Santa Cruz is twisty, so they had to follow us. #secretweapon

We stuck with Dave and Mike and Mike and Dave (maybe?) and two girls named Sue (not) through Watsonville. It's nice to not have to sit in the front all the time. And then on one long sloggy climb on San Andreas Road... they started drifting away from me. I shouted out to Robin that he could go ahead, I'd be fine, but he dropped back. I wasn't sure if he was being nice or if he was tired, but hitting the headwinds into Castroville I was *really* glad to have a partner. We decided it was easier to work together and get the last bit done. We stopped riding side by side. This would be the beginning of our unstoppability.

A reasonable title for this post truly would be "Half Mile Pulls on the Road to Becoming a Pavement Connoisseur." With matching Garmin 910xts on quick-release mounts, we shared time in the front, taking turns pulling for a half mile and bitching about the pavement. Or swooning over its smooth wonder. But mostly bitching.

Of all the many things we saw that day, there were these short rainbows in the sky. Nature's beauty stops me in my tracks regularly. If I had to guess, the ice in the high clouds causes them. I pointed them out to Robin and then silently said a prayer on each one. Something about seeing a rainbow makes me think, "I'm supposed to be here right now." It's an odd sentiment, perhaps, but I feel like a rainbow is God's way of saying hello. When He speaks and you hear it, then you are where you are supposed to be.

Once we hit Pezzini Farms (where the lovely Cath taught me the phrase "Carpe Toilet" which is the logic that, maybe I don't really really have to pee right now, but we are on a really really long bike ride, and I'm probably going to have to at some point in the near future, and here is a FLUSHING TOILET... SO JUST MAKE YOURSELF GO PEE RIGHT NOW), I was "a homing pigeon."

Of course I knew the way to Monterey.

When we got to the hotel where the Sag truck had our bags, I knew that we still had some work to do, and I didn't have the heart to break it to Robin. We had about 5 miles left including a giant climb up Forest Avenue in Pacific Grove. I might have unintentionally intentionally lied. But the amazing Ms. Elizabeth drove down and pick up our backs (and later, Sally), and waiting for us at Doug's awesome place in Pacific Grove were a shower, a kitchen, and room to chill. Oh yes, and we had a cat, too. THANK YOU, DOUG! OMG and LAUNDRY. THANKS FOR THE LAUNDRY, DOUG!

End of Day 1. Little did he know at that time we had 370 miles to go...

Thank goodness for Elizabeth, Bentley, and wine!

Day 2. Monterey to Morro Bay

The second day was arguably the most challenging day in terms of elevation gain. It was also the most challenging in terms of distance to lunch (like 80 miles!). But the second day was magic.

Sally and Robin and I set out a little later than we planned. On account of all the eating. Chocolate covered raisins IN YOUR OATMEAL? Genius. Thankfully, the amazing Elizabeth delivered our bags to the Sag truck so we didn't have to backtrack wearing packs. Have I mentioned she's amazing?

The day started with a climb up Route 68 to Route 1. My memory served me incorrectly, as I told Robin and Sally it was a descent. I guess I have a tendency to forget painful things and focus on the good.  At one point on the first day Robin said, "The only reason I climb up a hill is so I can bomb down them." Dude, you stole my line. After that climb, Route 1 down to Carmel is downhill in traffic with stoplights, but somewhere south of Point Lobos State Park the lights disappear and the traffic thins. We stuck together for a bit, but Sally's legs were feeling a "little sticky." She's a good sport and didn't mind bringing up the rear.

Sugar Shot

Big Sur. Bridges. Climbing. Twisty descents that favored mass. Half mile pulls.

"So much blue."

I don't recall exactly where we were when the fateful conversation that lead to the 500-miles-decision happened. But it was somewhere around here.

yep, biked over that

it was warm enough to ditch the vest, but the pockets were helpful to carry all the food

Occasional photo stops made it so we didn't get too far in front of Sally. She passed us during a quick pit stop at Big Sur Station, but I recognized her purple vest outside of Esalen, a well-known hippie dippie retreat center (where I would gladly live, if I could). As a hippie dippie herself (LOVE YOU, GIRL), Sally had to stop and take a photo.

We reconnected as three for a short bit before another snack stop (where we ran into Mike!). Riding with a female yoga teacher and... a boy... was an interesting comparison of consumption. Sally and I started with lots of bars and fruit and even egg frittatas in our pockets. Robin had us converted to Snickers bars and Coke pretty fast. Let's be real: Garmin estimated that I burned about 25,000 calories in 4 days (and officially 5 of my 8 depression pounds are gone, w00t.). I'm sure I won't touch a Snickers for a long time, but dammmmmmmmmmmmmn they are good. And Coke is ambrosia.

More climbing and descending. More ocean and cliffs and bridges. More rocks that I claimed where whales.

"NO, I SWEAR THAT THING IS LIVE!" They were rocks, of course. On all the many group rides on Skyline drive in Shenandoah, I was always the one who *didn't* see the bear that EVERYONE saw, so I wanted to see a whale. I suppose I should go on a whale watching trip. They are out there, I'm sure of it.

*****

"Do you ever think, as you're bombing down one of these hills that maybe there might be a truck coming the other way, and for whatever reason they have to swerve into our lane, and then... I mean, that's it?"

Another little ice-cloud rainbow was above us.

*****

The lunch stop at Ragged Point was an opportunity to chow a burger, carpe some toilet, grab snacks off the sag van, and refill the water bottles. Robin and I took off for Morro Bay. The terrain changes a lot at that point. Rather than steep sloggy climbs and twisty fun descents, Route 1 from Ragged Point to Morro Bay consists of miles of straight-ish rollers. And we all know how I feel about rollers:

Rollers are my bitch.

Fueled with fresh meat and determined to hit the sag truck before sundown, we crushed. Garmin suggested we were averaging 22 miles per hour at that point, despite the CRAP pavement. We took turns hammering, until we couldn't. Just when I would think "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh I dunno if I can hold this pace any longer," Robin would suggest backing off a bit. Great minds. We did still have like 30 miles to go.

And then there were the Elephant Seals.

courtesy Sally Mitchell

We hadn't grabbed a cue sheet that day since we didn't start at the sag truck, so when presented with "Option A: stay on Route 1 with traffic and climb that big hill over there" versus "Option B: take the bike route through Cayucos and soft-pedal a bit," I marveled at the genius of "the bike route."

Thanks, Bike Route!

courtesy Sally Mitchell

We made it to the sag before sunset, but the sun hid behind "The Rock." Sally was able to get a photo because she paused to take it in. Smart woman.

That night, I ate more food. #captainobvious

I also sweet-talked the hotel owner into letting me use the laundry. This would not be the end of my sweet-talking for the ride. Because sometimes you catch more flies with honey.

Day 3. Morro Bay to Santa Barbara.
.

I don't remember the climbs being that bad!

"I'm riding for tomorrow" was the theme of the day. At this point, Robin and I had already decided that we were definitely continuing on for a fourth day. Kortney was ready to host us, and our determination was high. It was a lovely day, and clothing decisions were again difficult. I decided to keep my vest, which seemed really silly in the middle of the day and really useful at the end. Robin went hardcore no jacket. Sally kept her vest as well. Sadly, she lost an arm warmer that day.

We all met at the sag truck early to drop off our stuff and get a start on the day. The pack of speedy dudes and ladies were there. I saw Emily and Ellen for the last time that morning. Robin and Sally and I decided to let the big pack depart and get out of sight so that we had no temptation to chase them.

I took more pictures on Day 3 on account of the flatter terrain

Sally and Robin

Little did we know that I would get a flat right out of the gate, so we didn't need to artificially put space between us and the hammerheads (said lovingly). 

I changed it pretty quickly! I didn't know I needed to pull up that arm warmer. Rule #82.

And then there was a headwind. Whew. And we were very glad to had a group of three to work together instead of two, because half-mile-on full-mile-off was way better with a headwind. But at least it was a pretty morning!

California in January? Or Wisconsin in June?

There was a sag stop only 20 miles from the start in San Luis Obispo. I have always been told that "SLO is really cool, you should go there sometime." Unfortunately we only had an unnecessarily long coffee stop at this hipster cool spot.

Robin had his first cappuccino in 6 months. I don't know WTF is wrong with him that he gave up coffee for 6 months because that's just silly and unnecessary for life.

Back on the road, we worked as a threesome (heyyyyy), and there was no need to hammer when you are riding for tomorrow. Route 1 is not particularly interesting in this part of California, but it does go through Pismo Beach.

I'm Captain of the Pismo Beach Disaster Relief. Some people lost all their belongings. Don't you think that includes athletic equipment?

Staying on the cue sheet involved lots of turns, agricultural roads, one really stupid ridiculously steep climb, a nice descent that favored aero, and some rollers. And then... we hit... THREE HUNDRED MILES!

We had to stop for a selfie at 300 miles!

And then there were sloggy climbs. Where as super steep climbs are my nemesis, apparently living in the Bay Area has made me pretty strong at long gradual climbs. They are also great for on-bike photography!

Just keep swimming--I mean, pedaling! With a compact crank and an 11x28 cassette on my dear Sugar, I can just chew up a climb like this...

Sorry dude, I dropped ya. #yougotchicked #idropboys Yes, that's a glove in my bra.

We made it to Lompoc for lunch just before the sag van took off. And we grabbed more than enough bars from the bag. I think it was at this point I fell in love with raspberry GU Chomps.

It was a warm day for January 19! Note the shoved up sleeves. Not a generally accepted technique among cyclists, but I was hot. I am hot. Wait. I mean, thanks.

How do you feel about more climbing, Robin?

Sally was a bit behind at this point, and it was windless. That is to say, on the crummy pavement, taking turns in the front made no noticeable difference on the level of effort, so we rode side by side and told stories. And then the climbing didn't suck so much. Goofing off helped Robin distract himself from climbing, as well. A demonstration:

And then, atop the climb, we stopped and waited for Sally. And ate. I've learned over the years of riding and racing triathlons that my stomach and my brain don't communicate well when I'm working really hard. Stomach doesn't think it's hungry (it is). On long training rides and runs (and especially race day) I have trained myself to eat "on the clock" so that I don't bonk or cramp (see: Eagleman 2012). Climbing up those hills, I didn't feel much like eating, and then I'd take one bite of Robin's Snickers and suddenly everything in my pockets needed to be eaten immediately. Whatever it was.

"When I did this route before, this is where I started singing 'Born to Be Wild.' Get your motor running, girl."

Thanksssssssssomuchforputtingthatsonginmyheadforthenext30miles.

What followed that last big climb was a BOMBER of a descent and then 20ish miles on the 101. I'm not going to lie. The traffic and the condition of the pavement was not conducive for me. Normally I would have tried to beat Robin to the bottom, but on that descent, I just tried to control the bike as it topped 46 miles per hour.

As we turned towards the coast and picked up speed, the temperature changed. It got cold and foggy. Grrrrrrrrreat conditions for the 101. Robin and I went into "get it done" mode and pulled half miles. Apparently there would have been a great view if it hadn't been for the fog. Hands on bike. Lights on.

The exit to get off the 101 could not have come any sooner. Or later. Or however I can express that I was excited to see the exit and get off the 101. We stopped again to regroup and eat our last snacks before heading into Santa Barbara. At this point, it was pretty chilly, and I got my vest and arm warmers back on.

The last few miles from exiting the 101 to the hotel in Santa Barbara seemed like "way more than quoted." It got a bit dark, there was rush hour traffic, and we got stopped at every other light. But eventually, we made it.

End of the Official Coast Ride!

That night, Sally and Robin and I celebrated by not leaving the hotel. We sat at the bar, drank wine and shared 5 plates of food. After eating all the bars and gels and chews and Snickers and crap, all we wanted were vegetables and fish. And Sally and I woke up STARVING the next day, haha.

That night was also the night that some random guy from the Speedy Gonzalez group uttered the fateful phrase "Have you ever heard of Amtrak Express?"

That was the last piece of the puzzle to make Day 4 a slam dunk. And the laundromat behind the hotel: slam dunk #2.

Day 4. Santa Barbara to Manhattan Beach to LAX.

What's Amtrak Express, you ask? It's this thing where you can put bags on a train and not ride the train. For $42, Amtrak took our two backpacks from Santa Barbara to Los Angeles.

Isn't that some sort of security nightmare? Don't you know about these things because you work for Homeland Security?

Yep, it seems sketchy that you can put stuff on a train and not yourself. I kinda didn't care. Option B was buying a t-shirt and shorts at Walmart and driving back to the hotel to get the stuff. This worked. The train station was semi-sort of-between LAX and Kortney's apartment. Giant shout outs to Sally, Mike, and Jackie for driving our stuff to the train station!!

We rolled a bit late. Ate a decent breakfast at the hotel with all the friends who were done riding. They all thought we were crazy. But when you are in go mode, sometimes it's easy enough to just stay in go mode.

And then it was time to go.

And we both thought our tires were low. Not a great way to start a day that will involve biking over 100 miles. We tried to Yelp up a bike shop, but nothing was open that early (even though it was a later start, it was still early for the rest of the world).

And then when we got to the water, we realized we were in a tourist town.

"Those guys are DEFINITELY going to have air!" Yay for bike rental place!

Free air!

And then we were rolling. It was a bit garbage-y getting out of Santa Barbara (stops, turns, etc.) but we just stayed on the official bike route. Just when it was about to open up, we realized that we were nearing 400 miles. And just as the desire for coffee became present, Crushcakes in Carpinteria was there. (Carpinteria, not Santeria. Carpinteria, not Santeria. Dammit, now that song is going to be in my head for like, I don't know, 30 miles.)

"Hi, do you have any gluten free options today?" I asked, with baited breath. And then this happened:

Crushing a GF Red Velvet cupcake.

My mom has an amazing red velvet cake recipe. It's so dense and delicious, and I haven't had it in like ten years. I went gluten free in '05 after years of misery and more scopes in places no one wants to talk about than all of your grandparents combined, so don't you dare accuse me of trying to be trendy. </soapbox>

After cakes, we actually started making some progress. It was a little unclear at times where to go, but we just followed the bike route, and we were treated to this:

All bike lines should be so amazing.

Biking between Carpinteria and Ventura was bizzare. The bike route is right on the coast. As is a giant RV park. For surfers or other people who make good life choices (Racing a triathlon in Half Moon Bay in 57 degree water temperature in April? Bad life choice compared with the dudes surfing in said bay at the same time. Running the last half mile of the Big Kahuna Triathlon in the sand? Bad life choice compared with the 500 people LAYING ON THE BEACH as you run by. Biking 500 miles down the coast? Bad life choice compared with all the people chillin' in an RV getting ready to surf. You get the idea).

And when we got to Ventura, I was doomed. Having been the lead singer of a classic rock cover band that regularly joked about becoming a Tom Petty tribute band, just the word "Ventura" did me in for like, I don't know, 30 miles.

And all the vampires walking through the valley...

Ventura to Oxnard. Miserably boring. Robin succcessfully yelped us a good lunch spot, but then we had to sit outside to mind the bikes and everybody got a little cold. And then there was the Naval Base just north of Point Magu, where we stopped to look at the flying stuff. And boys like rockets and stuff. (So do certain girls, actually!)

It's like strapping a lawn chair to two rockets.

We might not have screwed around as long at the flying things if we had known about the delay that was about to befall us.

Behold:

Not a single sign on the bike path.

So apparently Route 1 got washed out from all the rain a few weeks ago... and us NorCal kids didn't follow the SoCal news. Apparently there were lots of signs on the highway itself, but we weren't on it. So we didn't know.

And the reroute was going to be miserable. Like a ridiculous climb over the Santa Monica mountains and extra mileage through Thousand Oaks. As we stood there, contemplating our fate and route, an off duty policewoman came through to go shoot at the range just past the blockade. As she spoke to the guy holding us back, I asked for help. We were 450-odd miles in. We were looking at a lot of work and darkness if we had to bike. She offered to drive us after her hour of shooting.

We considered it. We thanked her for her offer.

And then the dude holding us back relented. There had been an accident between two trucks the day before, and they were just contractors. If cyclists got injured, they'd be doomed. The dude went and asked his boss if we could go through.

And then we got waved through.

There were two spots of construction. A few REALLY BIG TRUCKS and REALLY BIG ROCKS. We carefully went around them, making sure that everyone saw us before we proceded.

Biking on a closed highway for 10 miles. Pretty sweet.

When we got through to the other side, it was a downhill into Malibu. I begged for a Starbucks pit stop, and after contemplation, I gave into the cappuccino desire. And it was good. And at a Starbucks in Malibu, I expected to see famous people but did not. And I decided that Robin had famous doppelgangers.

And then there was climbing. And traffic. And a narrow bike lane in traffic. And Pepperdine University. (How can anyone graduate from that place with all the surfing??).

We continued on. I was... just about done. Praying for Santa Monica to come. It was farther than I wanted.

No, but just stop for a second. It's been 20 years since I've been to Santa Monica!

We were on a bike path right in the middle of the sand. Other than super steep climbs, my nemeses in biking are (in order of nemesis-ness):

1) Railroad tracks
2) Sand

Sharp turns in sand = Abby fall down.

We had to slow down. And no one wanted to add time at this point.

And then the sun was going down.

And no one wanted that either.

And to get to 500 miles (because WE ARE GETTING THERE, DAMMIT), we had to bike passssssssst LAX. And then turn around and come back.

LAX. So close, but so far away.

And then we were using my 500 lumen headlight, which I shouldn't have had on high, because then it started dying. At this point, progress was slow and careful. Lights from the power station helped. I almost couldn't keep up anymore.

Robin was doing some excellent math. Or Googlemaps was. But either way, he said, "We turn around here."

I trusted.

This is the last stop.

We had to get off the water and cut over the the airport. Luckily it was well-lit, but it was highway and there were cars. We stopped to awe at the giantness of LAX. It was kind of cool.

And then I made Robin check his Garmin every 30 seconds. We didn't want to miss it. (Note: I reset mine each day, but he kept his running for the whole ride.)

About half a mile from the AVIS Rent-A-Car. It happened.

We must have both been braindead because Robin biked right past the Avis. We turned around to pull into the lot and biked up to the door.

And then we got off of the bikes.

After a snafu with the first vehicle (GAH!) we were finally on our way to the Amtrak station. I am sure I looked crazy as I clomp-clomp-clopmed through the station looking for the freight pick up place. Bags retrieved!

Buzzing by LA at night. Cool.

I offered to rocheambeau for the first shower, which Robin accepted. Dude, shoulda just let the lady go first. I'm just saying. But I won. #karma

Kortney made an amazing healthy dinner, and we shared some wine. Somewhere between drinking a third glass and talking about God, Robin passed out on the floor.

Kortney is amazing.

My gratitude for your hospitality will never be rightly expressed, KP!

Day 5. Los Angeles to San Francisco.

This about sums it up:

Enough said.



Thank you, Robin. I will never forget this trip for the rest of my life.

Have I recovered? Ish.

Have I ridden a bike since? Almost every single day.

Have my legs forgiven me? Shut up, legs!

Ride on!