Ringing and Rolling in the Holidays

Seven. That's the average number of pounds the average American gains during the holidays. I haven't fact checked this information, but I heard it from a very reliable source.

Like everyone, I want to avoid holiday-related weight gain. Like everyone, I also want to enjoy the White Tiger's Grandma's egg nog, a river of gravy, and plenty of liquid cheer. I want it all. I want to eat my stuffing, but not have to stuff myself into my party attire.

To that end, I am employing various holiday-theme strategies. The main concept is balance. I plan on up-ing the exercise-output to compensate for the additional delicious-ness holiday-food input.

To wit. This weekend we celebrated one of the demographic's high holy days: Franksgiving. A festival of Jessica's cooking, spreadsheets, wine, pie, and money all at Frank's gorgeous Sherman Hill apartment. Jessica does the cooking, and before we ate, I insisted she give us a little tour.



How does a gal compensate for a spread as magnificent as that? First, I attempted to limit my intake at family-Thanksgiving. Onion pie is good, but I was happy to skip it along with seconds. I did manage to eat one and a half pieces of pie, though, and partake in several bottles of wine (and some authentic Templeton Rye) with the Thelen side of the family.

I also forced the White Tiger and Lexi to attend a Thanksgiving-morn spin class at the YMCA.




















We usually attend Tomoko's class because a) she is adorable and yells out various Thanksgiving food items you are burning off while pedaling you into the ground. b) Dina's nickname is "the destroyer." She's got arms like a San Quintin inmate and she throws in a fancy little trick called a spin-up with makes your quads quake like a bowl of cranberry sauce. But, we had to get to Anita (a whale of a town) in time for a noon dinner. Dina's class was nearly full and in no time sweat was pouring off the grimacing faces of newbies and old salts alike.

Another holiday-theme strategy I am employing this season is participating in the "Holiday Weighs" program at the YMCA. Before Thanksgiving, you weigh in and if you manage to not gain any weight over the holidays, you get a prize (knowing the Y it will be shoe laces) and you are put into a drawing for a gift certificate to Fitness Sports. Mama needs a new pair of shoes! No, literally, I do need a new pair of running shoes.




















Both the White Tiger and Lexi have volunteered to participate with me, along with a few friends who are participating unofficially. The White Tiger even plans to lose 2-pounds before the end of the year.

Lexi and I established a fitness-through-the holidays goal for our working out routines as well. We set a goal of 5-work outs a week, and one of them needs to be outside. Usually, when we set little mini-challenges for ourselves, we have a prize in mind for the end, but neither one of us could think of anything. Which may be why I am having such a hard time keeping up with this mini-challenge. If you've got suggestions for prizes, put them in the comments.

Another mini-challenge that I've been falling behind in is the 100 Push-Up Challenge. The Mayor mentioned the challenge while the White Tiger and I were visiting Boulder, and we firmed up our commitment when we were hanging out at the Sprocket Shower (where, I am not going to lie, I ate two cupcakes).

While I did the fitness test (15!), I have yet to actually start the program. I think about it. I say I am going to do the push-ups, but then I blame that fact that I haven't printed out the chart or whatever. I was also discouraged when the Mayor described my girl-push ups as kind of wussy. I attempted a few manly push-ups after Dina's class only to collapse in a grumbling, angry heap.

Then, I received this press release. (The only politics I follow are mayoral).

Press Release -- From the Office of the Mayor -- Boulder, CO -- November 25, 2010

The Mayor recently made some comments to Norman R. Rice regarding "girl push-ups" while attending the baby shower of his wife in Des Moines, Iowa. From his recollection, the comments degraded the girl style push-up and asserted that they didn't count as real push-ups.

After embarking on the beginning stages of the 100 push-up challenge, the Mayor has been better informed about the difficulty of ANY push-up -- regardless of style (girly vs. regular). He would, therefore, like to rescind his previous comments and apologize profusely for any judgment that might have been associated with these comments.

The mayor truly understands that this incident was not very "mayor-like" and would like all his constituents to know that he will make sure to censor his bullshit so that it is less judgmental in the future. He will pay back his debt to Norman R. Rice by buying her one ice cold Coors light on the first day of RAGBRAI.

My discouragement was quenched, not only by the prospect of free beer, but also by the fact that someone else was finding this mini-challenge, challenging.

I'll take heart in the fact that the average American gains seven pounds during the holidays. It's hard to balance wellness with merriment. In previous years, I would have let myself fall face first into a pool of sugar cookies and egg nog, but this year, I am at least acknowledging the set backs that kind of skinny dip may have on my ass(ets). Armed with a plethora of mini-holiday themed challenges, I hope I won't look anymore like Santa when I finally get to New Years Eve.

Boulders, Fit-sters, and Prowling with The White Tiger

The White Tiger and I escaped to Boulder to celebrate Halloween. (I always believe in celebrating holidays at high altitude whenever possible). Boulder has to be one of the outside-est cities in all the world. With hundreds of sunny days, access to mountains, and a community of ultra-fitsters--running, hiking, riding their road and mountain bikes hither and yon--it's nearly impossible to stay inside in Boulder.

While we were there, we enjoyed the fruits of the might hop-tree, the fruits of companionship of our friends, Steven (a.k.a. Panda, a.k.a. "The Boss) and "The Mayor" and a dog named Tuque, and the fruits the mountains.














On our first morning in Colorado, The White Tiger and I set out in Panda's car headed for downtown Boulder, in search of adventure and coffee. But, we got lost, and accidentally ended up in Golden, Colorado: where we found adventure and beer at the Coors Brewery tour.

The brewery, which is the largest "single-sight brewery" in the world, sits on Clear Creek and fills the city of Golden with a malty-fermenty smell. The tour was not outside, for sure, but it was delicious.

After, we walked around Golden, though, and The White Tiger took a picture with Mr. Coors: the Prussian immigrant with a dream that would become Keystone Light.




















We then proceeded to drive all over the greater Denver-Boulder-Longmont area, searching for The Mayor's office so we could take him to lunch. After a solid 2-hours spent quietly bickering and seeing many of the unsung districts of Longmont, CO, we finally found the Mayor. With him, we enjoyed more delicious brew in the afternoon and evening, but we didn't spend much time outside.

Outside Time: 30 minutes.

The next morning, after Panda and The Mayor left for work, like suckers, we continued our search for adventure and coffee. After an amazing breakfast at the Walnut Cafe, and a quick tour of R.E.I., we set out in the direction of mountains that were not ablaze. We found Estes Park.




















Here's me in Estes Park, in the parking lot of what may or may not be "the hotel from The Shining." With only a few hours before we had to drive back to the Boulder area, we were reluctant to pay the $20 admission price for entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park. Instead, we decided to "just drive to the entrance." But then we got there and decided to drive into the park anyway, $20 be damned.

Well, that was the best $20-an-hour experience I've ever had. RMNP is stunning, and because it was October, no one was really there except for a few Japanese tourists and some deer enviable antlers. All the roads up high were closed due to snow, so we drove to Beaver Lake and went for a mini-hike.




















Doesn't The White Tiger look majestic?














And, here's me, looking a bit too excited to see snow. That's what I call Rocky Mountain High.

Sadly, we had to leave the park and head back to Boulder. We did a little walking around down town and then had pizza with our hosts. Then, we went to bed.

Outside time: 120 minutes.

On Saturday, both Panda and the Mayor were around to entertain us and show us how to get places. The first place we got was breakfast at a coffee shop, where we dined on bagels on the patio.

Then, we head to Eldorado, which was not a lost city of gold, but rather a hiking trail. Thankfully, the Mayor and Panda, were kind and didn't make us hike up a mountain. Instead, we took a nice trail that lead gently upward through rolling foothills towards a mountain outcrop that looked a little like a chipmunk (sorry, no photographic proof).

Our happy foursome, plus a very goofy dog named Tuque, set off vaguely up hill, enjoying conversation and frequent drinks of water.




















When we were done hiking, we turned around and went to a Mexican restaurant for lunch.




















All five of us enjoyed the patio and glorious Colorado climate.

After a nap, and some frantic costume-making, our merry party, minus Tuque, headed to downtown Boulder for a little Halloween frivolity. We crawled up and down Pearl Street, enjoying the crowds of costumed revelers: a group of people dressed at Tetris, tons of Chilean miners, more than a few Lady Gagas, and Hunter S. Thompson. After much crawling and marveling at costumes, we headed home.

Outside time: 270

Colorado Trip in total: 420

Finally...

I've been slacking but I made it out for some "interval training" (ie walk/jog) in Witmer Park on Monday and a 3 hour bike ride, almost to Adel and back on Saturday. That's another 210.

Why I hadn't made it to Witmer Park before, I have no idea. Look at this gorgeous pond, surrounded by gorgeous foliage, and spotted with gorgeous ducks.

After my park adventure, I went home and played with my new kettle bell. Spending a half hour with Michael Skogg made me want to get right back outside again.

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Tiger Time

October 16, the White Tiger and I were enjoying ourselves with a fabulous Des Moines Saturday. With the Gray Weasel still out in the wilds of Missouri, TWT and I toured our hometown. A trip to the farmer's market for burritos, was followed by an adventure to the south side to a wacky flea market. After unearthing such treasures as a snowflake Pyrex pan and an astronauts poster circa 1986, we stopped at El Bait Shop for some a few adult beverages.

We sat outside, in the full-on sunshine, and enjoyed the almost Napa-like quality of a fine fall day. While we wiled away the hours, and emptied our glasses, we got a chance to talk about the "big stuff" that sort of gets lost in the busy-ness of our day-to-day life. Despite the dangerous amounts of sun exposure, I felt much healthier in what might be our last beer + sunshine event of the season.

Outside Time: 120 minutes.

Vacation at the Asylum

The White Tiger wants to go to Poland. I want to go to Paris. He wants to go to Greece. I want to go to Turkey. I want to go to London. He doesn't want to go to London. Our inability to see eye-to-eye is stifling our fetal European-vacation plans. Every time the issue comes up, our divergent destinations shut it down: until Prague. We both want to go to Prague: gorgeous like Paris, eastern European like Poland, and full of beer.

Now, it's time to start the great pre-vacation ritual which involves copious amounts of day-dreaming, internet-trolling, and penny-pinching. (Anyone wishing to make donations to the White Tiger vacation fund is welcome to stop by the Den to play pinball). Today, while trolling today, I discovered an article about a new bike shop/bar in Prague. Beer, plus free-fix it stations, plus an asylum from the hectic streets. Riding my bike has brought me into the orbit of the "cycling culture," or at least gives me an excuse to talk to people who are riding their bikes. While the Heartbreaker won't be making any international flights, I do know there's one stop in the teeming city when we finally arrive.

Babies, Boone and Barbeque

Outside time wasn't too hard to come by this weekend. It was freakishly gorgeous, like Mother Nature is setting us up for some sort of weather prat fall, or perhaps, she was just on her best behavior because we have company in town.

The White Tiger's family have been visiting us in shifts. His mom had to leave on Friday after a week of fun, but his brother and dad were still hanging around and ready for adventure.

On Saturday morning, Bobby and I gave the White Tiger and the Grey Weasel the accidental slip. They thought we were going to the farmers market, we thought we were going to brunch. While we waited for the guys, we enjoyed a nice beverage on the patio: 60 minutes.

After missing brunch, I was excited to attend a baby shower for my little brother and his special lady. The shower was at Grandview Park on the east side. Gift opening happened inside, but the rest of the time we spent eating Fazoli's pasta outside in the abundant sunshine: 60 minutes.

While I was showering, the boys had some adventures around town including finding an abandoned table and getting a sneak-tour of Terrace Hill. After some consultation, we decided to head to Boone for a visit to Ledge's State Park and the trains at the Scenic Valley Railroad.













The road into the canyon at Ledges was washed out, which meant we had to park at the top of the valley and walk down (and then back up). The roads and bridges were still a mess after three summers of flooding, but it gave the park a sort of feral-feeling. We strolled through the park, admiring the sandstone formations and the mighty power of erosion. We wandered all the way to the river and back up the hill to Inspiration Point. Hiking time: 90 minutes.













After our hike, we headed into Boone to see some trains. Across from the railroad station, barking and menacing, was a pack of half-rabid Pomerani: my favorite. We poked around the train station in the sunset, then headed back to downtown for barbecue (inside). Train time: 15 minutes.













Both Sunday brunch and Sunday dinner were spent al fresco. Outside time: 90 minutes.

All in all, I would have hoped for more exercise than a relaxing hike, but I don't feel guilty for missing the beautiful weekend weather. I think our guests had a nice time (and they certainly have some misconceptions about Iowa weather, which means they might come back).

I think the best part of this quest so far is the fact that I am noticing the time I spend outside. I might not be spending any more time outside than I had before, but at least I am paying attention when it happens and enjoying it more.

Outside Time Log
1800 minutes total (30*60)
315 Friday-Sunday
60 Thursday, grading papers, getting eaten
525 minutes to date
1125 minutes remaining

It's the Small Things That Bite

Ouch. Here I am happy grading papers and then along comes this little black nipper. What are these little devils? This is the reason why I love the outdoors, but am mostly hateful of wildlife.

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Day 1: Uh, This Works!

Before October struck, I was riding on top of the wave of work. Now, it's crashing down over my head in a white water flurry of papers, lesson plans, and the forthcoming creative writing contest. Wednesday morning I headed to my office at Simpson College early to try to catch up. I needed to catch up on a back log of online grading and I had a pile of face-to-face first drafts that needed some feedback.

I spend 2 and a half hours wading through online papers, quizzes, and emails. Next up was commenting on some first drafts. Normally, I would have sat in my office to read these papers, but instead, with an hour and a half left before class, I printed off some drafts and headed outside.













It was a glorious day. If Disney could make weather, this was the day they would have made: 70 degrees, a light breeze, abundant sunshine. The campus at Simpson is gorgeous, especially this time of year: very collegiate with red brick buildings, lush green grass, and leaves turning all shades of lovely.




















I found a seat on the brick patio outside the campus coffee shop. I loved the ringing clack my shoes made on the loose bricks. Inside I procured a hot apple cider, and then I settled down to work.




















The experience was nearly perfect. I overheard a professor, sitting next to me remark, "it's like the garden of paradise." He couldn't have been more right. There were a few minor annoyances, like tiny black bugs that wanted to bite me and the use of the second person, but overall the experience was totally uplifting. It was work, transcended.




















Everyone seemed filled with that sunny day glee that comes from knowing that this weather will so soon end. At one point, I was waving away a mosquito. A young man thought I was waving at him, so he smiled and waved back. Isn't that nice?

Too soon, the church bell rang, and I had to head indoors to class, but that's where the real magic started to happen. Usually, when I head to this class, I feel stressed, and frantic, and a bit nervous. Yesterday, I felt a great sense of calm. Issues that would normally stress me out, felt easy and non-threatening. I came up with some great teaching, I believe, on the spot.

Later, we took the White Tiger's parents (who are visiting from Portland) to El Bait Shop for dinner. The evening was so magically pleasant, we ate on the patio under the stars, where I impressed the Gray Weasel (TWT's dad) with my Google Sky Map app.

I didn't expect instant gratification from this quest, but I think I am feeling the benefits of being outside almost immediately. Now, I am worried this challenge might be too easy?

Outside Time Log
1800 minutes total (30*60)
90 minutes grading papers
60 minutes dinner at El Bait Shop
150 minutes to date
1650 minutes remaining

My Quest: Out of Doors or Out of My Mind

I've taken on a few mini-challenges in the course of this blogging adventure. I tackled the Juice fitness challenge (hurray!), and I did battle with Steven in the RAGBRAI Royalty Challenge (dang!). Now, I face a new challenge. One completely of my own making.

I ask (okay force) my composition students to do a 30-Day "Quest" each semester. They can choose any kind of quest, as long as it involves changing something in their lives. Often they choose quests that are for the better: spending more time with their kids, quitting smoking, or giving up the fast food. And, often these quests are pretty challenging. Not only do they have to complete the quest, along with a semester's worth of work, but I also make them blog about the process.

In the past, I've made some half-hearted attempts to join them on these quests, but often I get bogged down in school work and other obligations and my quests sort of fizzle out. This semester, though, I think it's only fair that I give it the old college try, once again.

Outside, it is a glorious, sunny, 60-degree October day, but unless I check the app on my phone, I wouldn't know it. I get up in the morning, drive to the YMCA, and exercise in doors on the treadmill or lifting weights. I drive to school, gazing longingly at the beautiful Iowa landscape all around me. Then, I sit at a computer, teach a class, grade in my office, then drive home and go to bed. Right now, I am sitting in my windowless office in front of a computer.

I like to think of myself as an outdoorsy person (who thinks of themselves as an indoorsy person?), and yet, the only thing I do that is outdoorsy these days is think about myself as an outdoorsy person. I dream of those lazy backpacking trips through the deep woods of Northern Minnesota, the cool breezes of Lake Superior, the sun-baked smell of fallen pine needles, waking up with the sun high in the brilliant sky. I long for the bike rides of summer, birds darting through the trees as I roll through their peace and quiet, sweat on my back and on my brow as I breath deeply of all that glorious fresh air. I miss all the wacky things you see when you are outside: crop dusters, and turtles, and ubiquitous neon sports bras. Being outside almost instantly guarantees an adventure.

This semester, the inside obligations have added up. I've got a boatload of classes (though, I have to say my students this semester spectacular) and tidal waves of papers to grade. Half of those classes are online and there are limits to laptops. I've got a lot of drive-time this semester too, as my course load takes me to three different campuses three times a day. When I am home, our new house always wants to be cleaned or maintained.

If I am going to be successful, I am going to have to be sneaky. I am going to have to work in outdoors time into my schedule without adding too much to my already hectic life.

For the next 30 days, I am going to challenge myself to spend at least 30-hours outside. Ideally, those hours will be spent exercising outdoors. I almost always make time for exercise. I hit the gym 4-6 times a week. Instead of elliptical-ling my way through old YMCA magazines and Lady Gaga Radio on Pandora, I might take a hike. I can put the Heartbreaker in the Mazda. Instead of heading right to Ankeny from Newton on Thursday afternoons, I might dash up to Baxter and back. I could even walk my kettlebell down to Witmer park for a little calisthenics al fresco. Raking leaves, perfect. Walking to the grocery store, sure. Eating outside, perhaps.

Of course, exercise is ideal, I am not limiting myself. If the only thing I have to do is sit in the sunshine on the back deck and grade papers, that counts. Running from building to car does not count. Driving with the windows down does not count. Camping or sleeping outside does count.

My outdoors time needs to be quality time. Bonus-warm-fuzzy feelings for time spent in physical activities. Bonus-warm-fuzzy feelings for spending time outdoors in places I've never been before.

Bad weather might be an issue, but I've got enough coats and high performance outwear to launch an expedition to Anna Purna. I might not have time every day, but I can always make up the hours on the weekends or on Friday afternoons. The White Tiger and I are also planning a visit to Steven and the Mayor in Boulder at the end of the month. Those two are always hiking up and down mountains, with their Tuque and sprocket in tow, so I can always play catch up.

The benefits of being outside are too numerous to count. There are studies that say that simply being around trees lowers blood pressure. There has to be a scientist who has proven that being outside makes people happier and better able to focus. I know I will be less stressed and cooking up sneaky ways to get outside will be a fun challenge. Those benefits alone, I know, will make all the indoors tasks of my life easier to manage.

RAGBRAI: Memories, Misty Coors Light Covered Memories

Because of my unscheduled blogging hiatus, I never got a chance to offer up the stories and adventures of my RAGBRAI re-cap.

Perhaps, the reason for my unscheduled blogging hiatus, was because I was suffering from post-RAGBRAI stress disorder (PRSD) and bicycle separation anxiety. All I did during the month of August was putz around the RAGBRAI website looking at photos, hoping to see myself or Steven or the mayor. I also sent mournful text messages to my RAGBRAI-posse and took half-hearted bike rides trying to recapture some of the magic.

Make no mistake, RAGBRAI was magical. I've got a fever and there is only one cure: more bicycle. Here's the profoundly pointless, self-indulgent, and oh-so-hilarious-to-me re-cap.

Prologue: Saturday, July 24, Sioux City



















Here's the team at the Missouri River in Sioux City; I love blondes. I felt just like Lewis and Clark, but headed in the opposite direction. After the dip, Panda and Brad showed us how to use the shuttles to get to the action.

Stage One: Sunday, July 25, Sioux City to Storm Lake














For some reason, any time RAGBRAI got near the Farm Boys Burrito stand, the whole peloton (I know this is an inappropriate use of this word), forgot how to ride their bicycles. On Sunday, everyone stopped, got off their bikes, and walked up the hill en mass. Other days, riders simply panicked and darted all over the road like a squirrel in traffic. We nicknamed it the Farm Boy Shuffle, and this, I believe is where the call-out: "Shit Show Up" was born.















[Here's Brad showing us his tool]

We stopped for pizza and ice cream in Kingsley on Sunday morning. Ice cream sandwiches, at $1, have to be one of the best deals on RAGBRAI. Lexi rolled into town after a run-in with a local. Apparently, her seat had been slipping, so a big burly farmer "fixed" it for her. But, he fixed it too low and with too much force. We waited in the shop for 1,000 years. Then, Lexi in her short skirt, sweet talked the mechanic into lending us a wrench. Brad, who's pretty handy with a wrench himself, fixed Lexi's piglet.

Stage Two: Monday, July 26, Sioux City to Algona
Stage 2 was a fateful day. It was the day of the crash. Panda and I were riding along, about 4 miles south of West Bend. Ahead, there was an ambulance on the side on the right side of the road. I cruised into the left lane to get around it, then attempted to make my way back to the right lane when it hit it: the crack. Pros call it the valley of death. Let's just say, we know why there was an ambulance at that spot.

I don't recall the fall, but I do remember feeling my helmet smack the pavement and hearing the contents of my bag go skittering across the cement. Thankfully, the EMT and a bunch of other riders came to my rescue. I held still while they checked me out and got me on my feet.

Panda was a pillar of strength and comfort, though from the text message she sent to Brad, it was clear she wasn't all that confident in my recovery. It reads: "Lauren went down. She os okayish...4 miles out. Be there eventually."

I was okayish. While I was sitting on the ambulance deciding if I was okayish, another rider went down in the same crack and broke her collar bone. I decided to get the hell away from the ambulance-o-death. While Panda righted the handlebars on my bike, a hunky cyclist fixing a flat, who also turned out to be an EMT came over and offered to check me out. It was the best palpitating I've ever received. His steady, comforting, hunky nature assured me that I would be fine.

Spirits were low. As riders passed me on the left, and said, "on the left," I muttered obscenities I am not proud of, but we made it into West Bend where through combination of first aid, pocket-Advil, Coors Light and ice cream I made a recovery. For gruesome injury pictures, check out Panda's blog.

Since the first-aid tent wouldn't give me anything "good" to help me finish up the day, I self medicated with beer, but since I injured my beer drinking arm in the crash, I had to find alternative means of imbibing.















That night, we amused ourselves in Algona, by convincing this kid to drink a half a gallon of sweet tea without stopping mid chug.

Stage 3: Tuesday, July 27, Algona to Clear Lake














Here's the team in Wesley for our usual pie-breakfast and voice mail checking. Brad, the Mayor of RAGBRAI, approves of only one of these habits.















Britt is home to the Annual Hobo Festival. There are also goats roaming the streets.















Here Lexi and I taking a little water-drinking pit stop before rolling into Garner. After Garner was a brutal stretch of head winds, rough roads, and hot temperatures. Thankfully, we got to spend the night in Clear Lake at Lexi's grandparents' house where we got to swim, eat hamburgers, and enjoy Minnesota's finest beer, Grain Belt, courtesy of Jamie Wornson.

Stage Four: Wednesday, July 28, Clear Lake to Charles City
Wednesday morning we said good-bye to Lexi, who had to go back to work, and headed east once again toward Charles City. It was a gray, cloudy morning, after an enormous downpour of thunder and lightning the previous night (thankfully, we were tucked into real beds under a real roof).

We bumped into some friends of Brad and Panda's: Morgan, and her dad, Big Mike. Boy, was he big. Standing at a robust, 6 feet 12 inches tall, Big Mike required a custom bike (titanium at that, and totally drool worthy), and when he held a beer can it was like a grizzly bear clutching a tea cup. He didn't mind a photo that documented the relative stumpiness of me and my bike.















Then, out of the clouds of Wednesday morning, appeared a mirage: Cartersville. Cartersville, population 14, decided they had to make the most out of their RAGBRAI stop status. One of the residents, who owned a pond, decided that since there was probably no way he could keep people out of his pond anyway, thought he would make a profit.

He turned his backyard pond into a RAGBRAI water park, complete with a metal platform, swing, 18 feet depth, beach, and much more. RAGBRAI-ers lined up by the hundred to pay $5 a pop to swing into the pond. They had stopped counting at 9:30 when 500 people had gone through the gates. You do the math.

Panda, of course, had to hit that swing, and she did it in honor of our new non-profit: Crackstrong. Crack kills, but we believe that through awareness we can make this world-a crack free place.



After the swing, we decided to indulge in our morning beer. Some of us were covering for people who couldn't drink beer, but who also couldn't reveal that they couldn't drink beer, and therefore had to drink double the beer on the sly.

After a double dose of tall boy, we left Cartersville. Later, we heard, more than 5,000 people were crowded around that pond, but when the ta-tahs came out, the police shut the whole business down. The rumors that made it to Des Moines were of orgies, but I don't think a few topless cyclists constitutes an orgy.

Just outside of Cartersville, we decided to stop for the peanut butter jam.















My friend, Jen Veak, of Beaverdale Bikes, raved about the Peanut Butter Jam. "You get to order a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with whatever you want on it. They give you a choice of wheat or white, then you get to top it with chocolate, coconut, pretzels, whatever. Then, you just lay under some trees and take a nap." It did sound rather appealing.

While waiting in line, we got to listen to cyclists jamming on the assorted instruments under the tents. One of my favorite things about RAGBRAI are people in cycling clothes doing things other than cycling: people in cycling clothes dancing. People in cycling clothes playing baseball. People in cycling clothes doing karaoke. Here, people in cycling clothes are getting a pretty good groove on.



The peanut butter sandwich industrial complex system, which is run by volunteers who get a free jersey, had a minor break down, and my incredibly epic sandwich was made twice. Instead of giving it to some hapless passerby (RAGBRAI reduces people to their most base, food hording instincts), Panda and I decided to attempt to split the second sandwich. Worst idea ever. Those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches sat in my gut like a rock. I ate a lot of crap on RAGBRAI, but an over dose of peanut butter was the worst.

After the sandwich, we rolled into Rockford, where after catching a glimpse of my bike-fairy-godfather, Brad found us a table in a local bar where he proceeded to force feed me Fat Tires until I thought I would actually die. Fat Tire plus fat-peanut-butter belly: worst idea ever. It was like a forced death march through over indulgence.

We got on the road and finally made it to Charles City, where we camped on a baseball field and rode around in golf carts with young men of the Charles City high school baseball team. I also enjoyed my first and last Pizza Ranch experience.

Stage Five: Thursday, July 29, Charles City to Waterloo
Stage Five started out promisingly enough. The route took us through Parkersburg, then Stout, then Dike, and then Hudson, before ending in Waterloo. Obviously, we had to have a drink in Stout, and we had to have a drink in Dike, and of course we had to drink in Hudson, because it was the last town out. My liver was raring to go.

We made a quick pit stop outside of Parkersburg. Sometimes when people are in love, they have to pee at the same time.














Parkersburg--the town that luck forgot--was pleasant. Not only were there several nice old ladies to chat with, plentiful ice cream shakes, there were also puppies. Yes, a yard full of puppies and cuddling was free.

Stout, though, was a disappointment. Despite its name, no decent refreshments could be found. The ride to Dike was grim. While we chugged up a long, empty hill, I heard from behind me, "that's it. I'm going 7!" Complaining and whining the whole way, Panda and I made our grand entrance into Dike.

And, there we found some fun.














First, there was a fabulous beer garden, rocking the Iowa-Outdoor-Party/Festival-Rock mix, which offered cold Coors and cheap ice cream. Panda befriended this lady by sitting on her golf cart. Then, as we headed out of town, some vigilante kids with homemade signs, tricked us into headed toward a country club.

This was RAGBRAI-magic: plush golf course grass; cool, clean bathrooms; beer on tap; and a golf contest.



















Panda has never swung a golf club before, but she quickly found a coach. (People in cycling clothes playing golf).

Here's Panda in action.


Later, in the town of Hudson, which dubbed itself the pirate town, Brad and I drank ourselves silly. While we were there, we bumped into Team Awesome and took a color-coordinated photo.















Later, Team Awesome, not only rode down the campground hill in Waterloo with us but also drove us in a car to dinner at a Mexican restaurant. Ole!

Stage Six: Friday, July 30, Waterloo to Manchester
Stage Six was not my proudest moment. The day was rainy, and stormy, and I was cold and terrified of taking another crash. I've never really ridden my bike in the rain, so the experience was awkward and damp: much like my first kiss. We fueled our low spirits with cheese curds and jerky in the town of Rowley, then hid out under an awning in Quasqueton.

Then, as if by magic, the clouds cleared, the sun came out and it was a gorgeous day. To compensate for my earlier mewling and puking, I did a little karaoke, "Tequila" of sorts, and I even volunteered to get my road rash bandaged before we left town. The oozing, festering sore was causing people to faint and little children to clutch their mothers' hems when I clicked by.

Brad got us massages in Manchester, and we ate Chinese food, and then we went to bed.

Stage Seven: Saturday, July 31, Manchester to Dubuque
The last day of the ride was bittersweet. I was eager to finish my first big ride, but I wasn't ready for the fun to end. In between me and the car ride home, there too, was the hill (I will save that discussion for a future blog).

Riding into Dubuque was spectacular: downhill, literally, all the way. I found Panda and we crowded into the line for the tire dip. Bike shoes full of sand, bad-ass skull jersey unzipped to my navel, I felt sublime.














We found the Bike World trucks. Then we found some beer for the bus ride home. Then, I showered. Then, I slept.

My first RAGBRAI is in the books. And, I can honestly say, I've got the fever. While I don't know if I will be like the Floyds of the world, who will ride every year for 30 years, I can honestly say, when the end of July comes around, I will want to be out there on the back roads of Iowa, watching out for cracks and looking for my next Coors Light.

Ubiquitous Neon Target Sports Bra

I purchased my first neon Target sports bras in July in order to look fresh for RAGBRAI. Since then, I have seen them everywhere. What is the appeal of ubiquitous neon Target sports bra (u.n.t.s.b.)? Send me your pictures of intsb's.

This gal was rocking hers with no shirt near the Drake campus. It's hard to tell but she's got a banging body. You go topless running girl in your ubiquitous neon Target sports bra!

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First Official Beaver Triathlon and Back with a Beaver Vengence

Recently, I was informed that the 3 people in the world that actually read my blog have been missing my updates. For the 3 of you (my mother is not included in this 3), my apologies. I didn't realize anyone would notice, much less care, that I was taking an unscheduled hiatus from my blogging efforts. (I do occasionally blog for Back Country Outfitters. If you are jones-ing for a little Rice, you can sometimes find me there).

One of my 3 readers reminded, with a healthy dose of guilt, that I have made promises to the blog-o-sphere. Oh, how those words have rung in my ears, so I am back to make good.

My unscheduled hiatus did give me a chance to build up a reservoir of issues to discuss, but I must start with a major announcement.

Team Beaver is pleased to bring you the First Official Beaver Triathlon. In order to honor Beaver-Fest, the Beaverdale neighborhood street festival, busy little beavers will run, bike ride, and then swim (in beer and fun).
















First Event: The Beaver-Dash 5k. We'll meet in front of Backcountry and then either run or walk or a combination of the two around the flat, residential streets of Beaverdale. After the "race," we'll round up some bloody marys and watch the parade.

Second Event: The Half-Way to St. Patrick's Day Bike Ride to Cumming. The Friendly Sons of St. Patrick sponsor an annual bike ride to Cumming complete with Irish karaoke, potato contests, and pizza. We'll ride our bikes from Beaverdale to Orlando's, meet up with the ride, and then roll to Cumming and back: 30 miles round-trip.
















Third Event: Beaver-Fest. There's no pool around Beaverdale and it's a little nippy to swim. Thankfully, Back Country has offered us the use of a kiddie pool full of beer to swim in while enjoying the sights, sounds, flavors, and smells of Beaver-Fest, an event truely un-matched in fun.


















[Beaver on a stick]

We are inviting folks who don't feel up to the all-day-challenge, to create a relay team. You do need to register for some of these events: the run and the bike ride are for charity. Visit the websites for more information.

For this little beaver there are some downsides. Yes, I realize that this is not the healthiest triathlon a person who is trying to lose weight could embark on. Yes, there will be alcohol in irresponsible amounts, pizza, and possibly some fried foods. No, I am not actually prepared to run a 5-k on my still, somewhat gimpy hip.

The upside: I am going to do it anyway. And, I am looking forward to the camaraderie and the support of doing a "race" with my fellow beavers. I promise to give the running section (my weakest event) my all. I think the Beaver Triathlon will help me reignite some of those warm feelings of balancing a lot of fun with my physical activities.















Beavers are the hardest working animals in the animal kingdom. I've got a lot of hard work in my future, so in my celebration of Beaver-Fest, and the first official Beaver-Triatholn, I hope a little beaver will rub off on me.

The End, and the Beginning!

On Monday, I rode out to the Ashworth Park trail head and rode my bike out to Clive and back. Instead of going home on the trail, I hopped off at Grand and 63rd and decided to take one of the side streets to give myself a little hill action. Worst idea ever. There were two pretty steep hills in a row and I barely, just barely made it to the top. There I was huffing and puffing and threatening to fall over.

"Oh, boy." I haven't trained enough, and I certainly have trained on enough hills. All of the bike trails in central Iowa are flat: damn you rails-to-trails! My longest day was only 60 miles, that's 27 miles less than the longest day on RAGBRAI. In short, I am going to die. I mean, there is a 1-mile long hill waiting for me out there.

Not only that, but I am pretty sure I am going to lose the RRC. Steven and I are pretty close in the point total, I did not lose 4% of my body weight. I lost 1.38% of my body weight. Good thing I have great tent putting up skills and I love to buy beer.

I would love to make a bunch of excuses, but remembering the words of Steven's father, I will desist. Instead, I will look on the bright side. The RRC got me motivated to workout when I would have otherwise lamed-out, and that's awesome. I am not as in shape as I would like to be for RAGBRAI, but according to Lexi, "well, you can't win everything or no one will want to compete with you."

Here's the final RRC Update.

Sunday: rode to the Cumming Tap with TWT, Frank, and Lexi. I had helped Frank buy a bike in the afternoon, but it wasn't ready yet, so he borrowed Lexi's back up bike: a gold-tone Motobecane circa 1976. Everyone had a nice time on our little Sunday outing, primarily because we are all motivated by beer. 17 miles: 1 point.

Monday: bike ride/crisis of confidence. 18-ish miles, 1 hour: 1 point.

Tuesday: 45 minutes of elliptical, 10 minutes core-training: 1 point.

Wednesday: 45 minutes of elliptical: 1 point

Thursday: 30 minutes indoor cycling (the Heartbreaker was in the shop): .5 points

Saturday: jogged 1 mile just to check in with the bum hip (still a bit wonky), then did a 60 minute Spin class. 1 point.

RRC Point total this week: 5.5
RRC Point total overall: 23.5

Days until RAGBRAI: 0
Miles ridden: 545
Miles ahead: 442

Ride Your Butt Off

In an effort to kill off some nerve endings in my rear end, I made "butt time" my priority this week. I got on the bike every day: Monday through Friday. Along the way, I also got some training for my future as a competitive cyclo-cross rider. The central Iowa bike trails are a little busted. Here's the full report.

Monday: I followed GoogleMap's directions to the start of the Great Western Trail. The trail was spooky and damp after long weeks of being under water. After crossing the very busy Raccoon River, I came across a stretch of gravel, but not just any gravel, killer gravel. It was huge, sharp, and long. I hopped off and walked the bike, and then was attacked by mosquitoes: risking death either way--bone crunching falls or West Nile. A runner came by and wished me luck. 15 miles: 1 point.

Tuesday: I kidnapped the White Tiger and made him go for a bike ride. We took the GWT to the By-pass Bridge, and then turned around and got some food at the El Bait Shop. The chicken was delicious. We rode home along Ingersoll and stopped at Dahl's for coffee. It was a nice balance of urban and rural riding. 23 miles: 1 point.

Wednesday: My friend Lexi is coming along for RAGBRAI for the first couple of days. She rides an old school 1970s step-through road bike. And, she will happily admit to not having to enough miles under her bum. She says she's happy at about 10 miles an hour and has asked me very politely not to abandon her. As a fellow RAGBRAI first-timer, I feel obliged. We took the Clive Greenbelt Trail from Ashworth Park to the place in Clive where the trail flooded and was completely closed. That stretch of trail is incredibly curvy. I pretended I was in an open topped car in the Tyrolian Alps with a handsome/dangerous Italian as I took those curves. Lexi said I killed her a little. I hope not. 15 miles: 1 point.

Thursday: Took an early morning spin on the GWT; rode next to the scary stretch of gravel, cyclo-cross style, and practiced riding up the hills to the old Science Center. There were lots of scary animal noises in the woods. 16 miles: 1 point.

Friday: On Friday, I decided to toss care to the wind and take a nice long bike ride. The Heartbreak had just gotten a new bike rack and a new zip tie for the computer (which I broke almost immediately), so I hopped on the Raccoon River Valley and headed west. Conditions were great for training, I think. It was hot, nearing 90 degrees. It was windy (why does it always seem to turn in the direction I am going?).

My goal was to do 60 miles, just past Panora. But on the other side of Panora, with just a mile and a half left, the trail was really, really dirty. Not like a little dust, like straight up 3 inches of dirt. But, I only had a mile and a half to go, and because I am too pig-headed just to turn around, and too lazy to find another route, I just circumnavigated the "caution" tape and proceeded to ride, in very slippery, very scary dirt, until I got to a spot in the middle of no-where where my odometer read 30 miles. Then, I stood in the dirt, drank some water, had a snack, made some phone calls, and started home. 60 miles: 2 points.

Saturday: Does eating crawfish count?

RRC Points: 6
RRC Total: 18

Putting in the Hours

Monday: On Monday, I wasn't scheduled to work until 2 in the afternoon. My plan was to sleep in, then go for a decent length bike ride. Life intervened. I assumed that after co-habitating for more than a year, TWT and I would have it down, but moving into a bungalow all our own (well, mostly his. I am like an illegal subletter in the real estate of love) has presented new challenges and expectations to be managed. (Subtext: we were both being jerks). I chose to spend the morning and early afternoon working on our relationship and building a foundation for future cohabitational success. (Subtext: we fought).

By the time I made it to the gym, I only had time for a 45 minutes on the Elliptical.

RRC Point: 1, barely.

The rest of the week's workouts followed a pretty similar pattern.

Tuesday: 45 minutes on the elliptical, 15 minutes core

Wednesday: 45 minutes on the elliptical, 15 minutes lower body

Thursday; 45 minutes on the stationary bike, some intervals

RRC Points: 3, barely.

Friday: Things got better. I had a super-important-meeting in the morning. Then, after lunch and quick nap, I changed from nylons to bike shorts and went for a ride. I trekked out to Clive and rode my bike to Redfield again. It wasn't as fun as riding with my friend Ranger Dave, but it was a beautiful day for a ride. Along, the way, I saw this turtle, hanging out by the side of the trail, so I stopped to take a picture. I am trying not to take it as a sign of my impending slowness, but a talisman of perseverance.

The ride was about 44 miles, and took a little more than 3 hours. Because it was so flat, though, I am giving it one point.

RRC Point Total for this week: 5

It is incredibly painful to feel like RAGBRAI is looming*, rather thank feeling excited to get started. It was also incredibly hard to read about Steven's adventures in Colorado, where she is jumping off of mountains and vomiting, and not feel like a huge load of crap. She's going to run up a mountain next month, that's how hard core she is. Plus, no matter how much I love Iowa, it's hard not to feel a little mountain envy.

On the other hand, feeling bad about one's self doesn't burn any more calories than math, so I am choosing to look on the bright side. Not only did I manage to accomplish a breathtaking amount of work in the non-fitness part of my life, I also did make it to the gym every day. Participating in this challenge forced me to carve out the time, when I would have otherwise crapped-out. Now, in the future, I can look back on this week and remind myself that no matter how busy my life seems to be, there's always time for fitness.

After my ride on Friday, I thought, "mountains, we don't need no stinking mountains." We've got miles and miles of rolling hills, verdant fields, cows, red barns, big fluffy clouds, sunshine, cool breezes: Iowa's just dandy. I am excited to try to ride all the way across it.

*Last night I had my first RAGBRAI-anxiety dream. We were bivouacked on a mountain side, after trekking through some distant land, though it was also RAGBRAI and we were in Storm Lake. I realized I had forgotten everything important: bike shorts, jerseys, sleeping bag, and I had to figure out how to survive until my mom could bring them to me when we got to Algona (though I have to say, if I did forget anything, the LAST thing my mother would do is drive them to Algona for me).

No Rest for the Wicking (Fabrics)

I love sleeping. If I don't get my eight hours of shut eye, my brain doesn't work and I make ridiculous statements and stop halfway through sentences. It's brutal.

In my old life, if I stayed up or out too late, I would simply send my fitness buddy a text letting her know that I wouldn't be going to the gym in the morning. Not anymore. Now, I've got the triple threat of motivation:

1. I made a commitment to Lexi to be more consistent with our workouts. Not going one day, then sloughing off the next.

2. I've got to text Trainer Gwyn with my workouts.

3. I've got to beat Steven in the RAGBRAI Royalty Challenge (RRC). The mockery and gloating and possible crown wearing for the entire week of RAGBRAI will just be too much to bear.

This morning was a challenge though. I stayed out too late with Ranger Dave. He's only in town once a year, and so his Des Moinesiac friends celebrate with a week long "Dave-Up" that involves bike rides, dart playing, and German food.

As I was brushing my teeth, I considered sending the bailout text. But then I thought about what that would do to my schedule. There wouldn't be time for a workout during the day, and if I want to win the RRC I've got to workout five days a week. I skipped Sunday, so a Thursday skip would be cutting it close.

So, groggily, I got up this morning, tied on my running shoes, and went to the YMCA. Showing up half the battle, right?



















Just kidding. I did put in a workout this morning. It wasn't my best workout, but I made it happen. I was so proud of myself.

I made it through the day without being too sleepy or cranky or stupid. What's the lesson? Sleep is important, for sure. Most Americans don't get enough, and that leads to obesity and heart disease and stress etc. But, cutting it short one or two nights a week won't kill me: in fact, it makes me stronger.

R.R.C. Log

Monday: 45 minutes on the elliptical, 10 minutes core training

Tuesday: 30 minutes on the elliptical, 30 minutes lower body weight training
-Bike Ride: Clive to Redfield, 45 miles, 3 hours, 10 minutes

Wednesday: 60 minutes on the elliptical, 30 minutes upper body weight training

Thursday: 45 minutes on the elliptical trainer, 15 minutes lower body weight training

Friday: 45 minutes on the elliptical trainer, 30 minutes upper body weight lifting

Part of what gives me strength when I am working out is my super tight pants. There is something magical about tight pants, and I am not the only one who thinks so. Don't miss this video. It's a pretty accurate summary of my daily adventures at the gym.















Steven might have Jillian and her love of calculus to power her through her workouts. I've got Leslie.

Point Total: I am going to give myself 7 for our first week. Weigh in on my calculations in the comments, yo.

Of Redfield and Rangers

Meet Ranger Dave, my new cycling coach. Lance Armstrong has Chris Carmichael; I've got Ranger Dave.

We call him Ranger Dave because he is a bonafide National Parks Ranger on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, and besides having an enviable job, and being kind of a bad ass, he's also a bike geek in all the best possible ways.

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This week, he stopped in town on he way from his training in the Smokey Mountains to his full-time job in the Canyon, he stopped in Des Moines to visit his family, eat some Tasty Tacos, and spend some time with his good friends: me and Carl. Dave usually visits in the winter, when the North Rim is blanketed in 8 feet of snow and the only way to get into the park is a 40-mile snowmobile ride. (They give him the winter off.) So, you can imagine my excitement when he came to visit in the summer. We had to go for a bike ride.

Here's Dave, post-ride. Apparently, when you buy the super-fancy bike, they give you the matching shorts.

According to Bike Iowa, Tuesday night is Mexican Night at the Offsides Pizza and Pub in Redfield, Iowa, so we decided to head in that direction. Unlike some cranky Coloradians I know, the prospect of a cold mid-ride beer helps motivate me.

Riding bikes with Dave was really fun. First, he's a total gentleman, so he loaded and unloaded my bike for me and put the wheel back on. Here's Dave fetching my wheel for me.

Second, he's got lots of tips. He told me the importance of filling my tires to something like 100 psi and of making sure my brakes are engaged before I start riding again: who knew? After a cyclo-cross style ride over some serious gravel behind the Menard's in West Des Moines, and then scaling a fence with our bikes, we were off. Just past Adel we got buzzed by a crop duster. It was like riding bikes in a World War 1 movie, except without the trenches, mutilation, and morphine.

Dave is mad smart, and he was full of useful information on bikes, training, re-fueling etc. While we were chatting, I mentioned that I was looking for a commuter. I want something as light and fast as my road bike, but I want it to be nice and sturdy so I don't have to worry about hammering it over the pot holes on Oralabor Drive in a mad rush not to be late to teach class. Whenever I mention the my mystical-dream-commuter, people ask why I don't just ride my road bike? I want to trick out my mystical-dream-commuter with racks, fenders, lights, and maybe a cup-holder. I don't need all that stuff on an afternoon cruise to Redfield, but I do need it when I am hauling stacks of papers to Ankeny. I want a speedy bike and a super-functional bike.

Dave, in his infinite wisdom, suggested this darling by Motobecane. Here are his thoughts:

Unfortunately, the bike I was thinking of (Ibex X-Ray) is discontinued but I found this instead: http://www.bikesdirect.com/products/motobecane/fantom_cross_cx3.htm
Check out the pics with fenders, racks etc.

Motobecane used to be a renown French brand but is now direct sale from Taiwan, where frames for Trek, Specialized etc. are made, maybe in the same factory, but certainly next door. They don't advertise or sponsor riders or teams, or have a bricks & mortar dealer network so they're way cheaper than the better known brands for the same equipment. My first road bike was a Motobecane and I was happy with it. I upgraded to my ridiculous boutique carbon frame only because I saw I was really gonna get into riding and I had the money to burn when I got a perm. job.

Something to think about - cross bikes can be said to be the best combination of road (efficiency) and mtn (stability/durability) bikes, but you could also argue that they're the worst of each - heavier/less efficient than a road bike and not suited for much beyond dirt/gravel roads.

Don't go cheaper, but if you have more to spend let me know and I'll revise. You'll get a lighter bike with better components for more $.

RD

So, dedicated readers and bike-geeks all, thoughts or suggestions for the future magical-dream commuter?

When we were done with our ride, he made me a chocolate milk. What a sweet heart. We can all use a little coaching, someone to offer some helpful suggestions (Motobecane!), yell a little bit (pedal faster not harder), and offer an array of delicious beverages.

Stevie, Time to Leavie...You in the Dust!

Last week, my pal Steven (also known as Panda) challenged me to the RAGBRAI Royalty Challenge. This fitness challenge requires a commitment of working out at least five times a week, and losing at least 4% of our body weight. Weeks start on Sunday and will come to a conclusion the Saturday night we meet in Sioux City, Iowa for the start of RAGBRAI: July 24th.

The winner get glory, and will look significantly better in her bike shorts. The loser will have to put up the tent of the winner for at least 3 nights of RAGBRAI and is also required to buy the first beer in each beer-stop town along the ride for two days. The loser will also face a heartbreaking amount of mocking and torment.

Steven, being just a bit of a nerd has worked out a complicated system of rules for the challenge. Here are her comments in full:

Dearest Norman:

Here are the proposed rules:

1. Each participant must engage (sounds dirty) in at least a 30 minute workout on 5 days of the week. I think it needs to be us using our judgment on what counts as a workout. For instance, for me, I think a hike does not count...but, if I jog parts of the hike and sweat like a maniac...then maybe it does. :) Also, biking always counts, but must be a minimum of 15 miles to be considered a workout (round trip if commuting). All weeks go from Sunday to Saturday.

2. Each participant must lose at least 4% of her body weight. This means that there new weight should be (at max) 0.96 * current weight.

3. The winner is determined using the following point scale: A) 1 point for every separate workout completed during the 4 weeks (this means that you should have a minimum of 20 points...but could earn extra with 2-a-days or by working out on "off" days) B) 3 points for every percent of weight loss (this means that you should have a min. of 12 points...but could earn extra by losing more) C) Tie breakers will be decided by whoever can shotgun a can of Keystone Light beer the fastest

4. All workouts must be documented on the blog. This doesn't mean that you have to have a separate post for each workout...you could just do a "summary" post at the end of the week. Okay, now...you must print this and sign it in blood. Heh. Just kidding! Anyway, I hope moving has gone well and I also hope that you get your butt moving...because I am going to kick your ass. That is all. Love, Stevie P.S. Stevie...it's time to Leavie!

Unfortunately for Steven, complicated math doesn't burn calories.

Here's my video response to Steven's throw down (what I lack in fancy editing, I make up for in my subtle acting abilities):



Now, prepare thyselves beloved blogophiles because this is going to be one hot, sweaty, and caloric-deficit July.