Meh, meh, mehhity meh meh meh

I don't know if it is a catastrophic depletion of Vitamin D or what, but I am just feeling epically meh.

Hence, the lack of blogging this week.

Also, I feel cold.

This morning, I tried to use the power of my mind to fight of the impending mehness of it all. I tried to imagine the second day of RAGBRAI in 2012. We were riding into Lake View and the hot breath of wind was blasting right in our faces. Then, Steven and I caught a slow-moving pace line, and rode that bad boy all the way to the lake.

Then, Steven and the Mayor and I dropped our bikes, grabbed some tall boys, and walked right into the lake to refresh ourselves after our ride. It was bath water temperature. I tried to sleep that night but between the light shining right into our tent and slamming of bathroom doors and the insane heat, I only got like 3 winks.

In the morning, it was the same temperature.

You can read about the Ragbrai of a 1,000 suns here.

Or, you can watch this video of a guy having fun in spin class.



It is supposed to snow tomorrow.

And, Saturday.

And, Sunday. The high on Sunday, when we celebrate our annual "Mardi Gnaux" party is only 3. Yes. 3 degrees. Not Celsius.

My colleague said she was going to fight the winter mehs by "faking it until it's 50."

I am going to try to pretend that I am one of the Stark children from Game of Thrones. In Westeros winter lasts like 50 years. If you think about it that way another month doesn't seem so bad.

Your Hypothalamus is Just Not that Into Losing Weight

Sometimes Facebook is great. Your friends will post super hilarious things, like this: 

Awesome ad for the Rockwell Relay Race. Thanks Ranger Dave!

Other times, people post videos like this:

(if you don't have 12:42 minutes to watch this, I will summarize below {also, if you don't have 12:42 to watch this, you should probably find another blog to read, because I am long winded})

Summary

• Diets don't work. 
• Diets don't work long term.
• Dieting as a kid means that you are probably going to be overweight as an adult.
• Our set points, where our brain thinks we should weigh, can go up, but don't come down.
• Nearly all diets fail and we gain the weight back after 5 years. (The Juice challenge was four years ago...)

Bum-to-the-um-to-the-er.

This is not what I hoped to be writing in my 300th blog post, y'all.

I felt the same way when I personally realized the experience documented in the classic American film, He's Just Not That In To You. You had the sneaking suspicion, all along, that he wasn't that into you, but your crazy-brain kept telling you that he was just busy or whatever. No. Men are simple. If they want to hang out with you, they will. If they don't, they won't.

Bodies. Same. Bodies are designed to gain and maintain weight to help us deal with famine and starvation, so like I have said all along, if I am ever stranded on a raft in the middle of the Pacific (this is something I consider a lot because In the Heart of the Sea is one of my favorite books), I am so going to outlive all those skinny people. But, your hypothalamus is just not that into weight loss.* 

I mean, I have had the sneaking suspicion this was true, but you just don't want to believe it. We want to believe he will call! And, we want to believe that our bodies can be different. 

If we accept this premise, well, we can stop obsessing, stop waiting by the scale, stop beating ourselves up. And all that energy we put into trying to control everything that we eat can be put to better uses, like knitting, or crying. 

Of course, it wasn't a completely bummer-life-TED talk because there was this interesting chart. 

If you work on these: 

Eat your fruits and vegetables, ride mountain bikes in suits, don't smoke, and drink big glasses of wine less often.

Even if you are fat, even if you are obese, you are just about as likely to die as normal weight people.  

Yay!?

I mean, this is great news and all, but I want to be able to buy better cycling shorts, you know what I am saying?

Of course, the upside of all of this is the idea of mindful eating, which makes perfect sense. Eat when you are hungry. Don't when you are not hungry. Stop eating when you are full. Duh-phiany.

This is something I can work on. Just being quiet, listening to my body, and trying to take good care of it.

Luckily, my bod seems to enjoy eating fruits and vegetables and riding bikes. And, while dieting doesn't usually work, exercise always works if the goal is to be more fit and happy. 

*Side note. I once had a crazy doctor explain to me that if I wanted to stop feeling hungry and only eat a certain number of calories, I just had to stick to that number of calories (1500, let's say) perfectly for 120. If I could do that, then I would no longer be hungry for more calories (2,000 say). He compared it to alcoholism and explained it was based on the hypothalamus. 

Which, after watching this, his claim seemed a bit more plausible. Except for a couple obvious facts. 1) There are a lot of factors in eating and drinking that go beyond simple hunger and or thirst. 2) Eating perfectly for 120 days seems next to impossible if you are trying to live a "normal" life.

Spin Out

It's still winter in Iowa, and probably will be through mid-May. Because I have a 40-degree threshold for the bicycle-cycling, I still haven't ridden a bike outside in 2014. 

Instead, I have been spinning. Yes, that time-honored tradition of putting on your spandex shorts, grabbing your water bottle, marching out through the snow, driving a car to the gym, and then riding a stationary bike with a bunch of other people. 

As bad as it sounds, I do actually enjoy spin classes. 

However, I have learned, this winter, that the most important factor, though, in a spin class is the instructor. I cut my teeth on spin classes from Tomoko and Dina "the Destroyer." These days I am in love with Janaan and I really wish Aubrey wouldn't have given up Saturdays. Goldie is a big fan of Dave Mable. 

I know good spinning.

If the instructor is good:

• The music will be diverse, old stuff, new stuff, but you will know the words to 87% of all songs. 
• The music will be curated to match the drills and the intended mood.
• The lights will be dim, with awesome flashing strobe lights when necessary. Or there will be daylight. 
• The workout will be that really good kind of suffering, where you are working hard, but you are having fun at the same time. Like an actual bike.

Hmm, I am not explaining this very well in words. Here's an example. 

If the instructor is bad:

• She/he will leave the fluorescent lights on full blast, so your winter-gray sweaty skin will reflect bleerily back out into the room. She/he does this so she/he can "see your form." 
• She/he will keep the music at a minimum, quiet enough so you can "hear her/his instructions," but really so you can hear your own panting.
• She/he will ignore what is actually happening in the room and yell out phrases that spin instructors are supposed to yell out each class. They have a quota: 
• Three = "you're doing great!" 
• Two = "it's your workout, push it!" 
• "nice job!" = 4-5
• "don't give up, almost there!" = 6. 
• She/he will be obsessed with watts, so you will spend the entire workout staring down at the little screen to make sure you are hitting the "target watts number." Then she/he will yell at you for not "keeping your butt back over the seat." 
• The workout will consist of drills that make no sense for actual bike-riding. 
• I am sorry, but a "spin-up," where you put your hips against the handle bars and pedal with your quads. Not helpful. 
• Tabata on a bike? Uh, no. 
• She/he or he will play music not to organize and structure the workout, but just as background noise. And, the music will be all one type. I once went to a class where the instructor put on a live Red Hot Chili Peppers concert at a volume so low, you could just barely hear it. The 90s are over! Deal with it. 

On Saturday, I went to a spin class so bad that folks were actually walking out when they saw the instructor. It was that bad. Nothing against her. I am sure she was top of her class in her Tabata instructor training, and I bet she has a heart of gold, but I don't want to ride my bike inside with her any more.

Thankfully, spring will arrive in about four to six months, so I have been thinking about Saturdays where I ride an actual bike. I have been wondering if they are helping or not with all my actual bike riding that I plan to do once mid-May rolls around. 

One of my bike boyfriends, Steve-Oh, (not to be confused with fellow blogger and occasional spin class sandbagger, Steven), stopped by the house the other night. I mentioned the RTR dilemma. He said, "well, you better get riding your bike." 

"I haven't been riding my actual bike, but I have been going to spin class." 

"Yeah, that's not the same," he responded with the cool casualness of a man who doesn't own a car. 

And, that was the idea I had been getting. Spin classes, I assumed, would help with getting me into general shape, but they wouldn't translate to actual bike-skills and endurance. 

That notion came primarily from this cartoon, published in the Iowa Momentum, way back in March of 2011.

Oh, Duffy. You are so witty.

But, I was reading my March issue of Bicycling (2014) and they had this article on spin classes.

I got the iPad edition, so this is a camera phone picture of the article on the iPad. Weird.

And, they say that spin classes can be pretty okay. You can "bury yourself on the sprints" because you don't have to worry about staying upright, and you can work on pedal stroke form, and you can work on climbing because you can change the gearing to make it tougher.

Huh. Good to know, Bicycling. 

We'll just have to see about that come mid-May. 

Post Script: for your viewing pleasure, I also offer this image of professional Danish cyclist legs, also from the iPad edition of the Bicycling magazine. 

I like how the one on the left looks like an actual face.

Do you think the devil would trade me my soul for legs that look like that?

To Ride, or Not to Ride, the Rockies???

Steven and the Mayor and the small ones were in town last weekend, and I was hoping that I would get the skinny on the feasibility of the Ride the Rockies for old Norman.

I haven't truly committed to the idea of RTR yet.

Part of me is like, "oh, suck it up and do it. It will be hard, but you will be so glad you did."

And the other part of me is like, "are you f-ing insane? You haven't really lost any weight. It is only four months away, and you don't even know what a mountain ride looks like, let alone feels like. Don't be ridiculous."

(Of course, all this hemming and hawing might be moot because O'dells hasn't emailed me back.)

I was hoping that with some face-to-face contact with my mountain dwelling friends, I'd get some clarity.

First, I hoped we get a nice long chat in on the ride up to Ames, where we went to watch a basketball game. Unfortunately, there was an epic blizzard, so my comments were limited to, "uh-huh," and "oh shit," as I piloted the car north.

When we did broach the topic, if I may summarize what I took away from Steven's thoughts on the RTR, she was wavering as much as I am. Sometimes she seemed pretty suspicious. Then she suggested we just "flip a coin" to decide whether I do it nor not. She did say that she thinks that it will require the reappearance of "Super crazy Juice Norman."

This was a bit surprising. Normally when I suggest anything to Steven, I get a "c'mon, Normie!" or a "you can drive heave _______ miles/climbs/ISU basketball games." But not this time. There was more than plenty hesitation in her tone.

The Mayor too often scoffs as my fear with a casual flip of the wrist and a "meh," and a "you'll be fine." Not this time though. He kept saying, "Man, Normie. It was impossible to convince you to do the Copper Triangle. Now you want to do the Ride the Rockies!?!" He also kept saying, "that first day scares me," and "after I did the Triple ByPass I didn't want to move the next day."

The thing is that I don't want to ride the Rockies, per say. I was pretty intimidated by TOMROV which was my original plan for that time frame. It is just that this opportunity came up, and I feel the timing begs for serious consideration. I don't want to whimp out, but I also don't want to humiliate myself in front of a bunch of fit Coloradians and mar their ride with my impending heart attack.

I will admit, I am probably overly cautious about most things. I can't remember who said it but either Steven or the Mayor commented on me and the Tiger by saying, "that is not a house with a lot of confidence in it."

True.

But, typically, the way this goes down is I say, "I'm scared of _______" and Steven and the Mayor tell me that I am being ridiculous. Not this time.

This, of course, counter balances Masinga's opinion, which is "you can do it!"

And, the new-math provided by the Ranger:

You had a 4000 foot day last year so only 3 of those days are more, and the last one climbs early then mostly downhill. Survive day one and conserve 2,3,4. Grind day 5 and only Loveland to go!

(He is comparing RTR to last year's Ragby.)

I don't even know what he is saying, but it sounds promising, right?

(The Tiger thinks it is too expensive and I should just do a hard one-day randonee instead.)

I do have the time. I do have the money. But is this even possible? I just don't know...

So, I started looking around for training schedules, you know, just to get an idea...

Actually, I don't know if this is for RTR. I found it on a blog who claimed it was for RTR. Let's just pretend that it is for RTR.

Okay, not too bad. No more than 5 rides per week. The longest week is 185 miles. Seems doable...oh wait.

That schedule starts on February 25th (Saturday)--that's fifteen weeks. So, that would mean this schedule would start on Saturday, February 22nd.

Did I mention the blizzards we have survive and have planned for this week? Monday, Thursday, and Saturday?

The other plan I found is a 12-weeker, which the blog that I stole this from claims is from Outside magazine, and is the "harder version" of the training plan.

Can someone just explain to me where people are doing intervals? Do you find a nice open stretch of road or something? Do you ride their or drive your bike there? Do people do intervals on bike trails? Can someone program my computer for me?

On the positive side, if I managed to somehow survive the RTR, then both RAGBRAI and the Copper Triangle would be a piece of cake, so says Steven and the Mayor. So maybe I could skip all the other training I was going to do this summer and just pack it into one week?

I just don't know.

I am game for working hard, doing my best, and just seeing what the hell happens, but I don't feel like I know how hard it is going to be, so I don't know if I even know how to train for something like this? There are known knowns and there are unknown knowns, you know?

Meh.

You know what else I don't know? When and where are we going to do the Brewery 100?

Oh, gentle readers, do you know what I should do? Put it in the comments.

Sandbagger Steven and the 90-Minute Spin Class

Steven and the Mayor came to town last weekend, and a good time was had by all. On Saturday, they tricked me into driving through a blizzard to go to an ISU Basketball game. Yes, I had to drive. 

When they teased me about how crazy it was that I would a) drive, b) got a basketball game and c) go to an ISU basketball game, I reminded them that most of the ideas that they have for "fun" seem like bad ideas. But, I will admit, turn out pretty well.

So I drove to Pleasant Hill to pick them up Saturday am, we drove through the driving snow to Ames, where we had some beers and scored a ride with Bob and Tom to the game. We just left my car in "campus town." We watched the game, then hiked back through the snow to the bar/car. I got a ticket, but I didn't have to pay for my beers or snacks, thanks to the Mayor. 

Then, I drove them to the south side of Des Moines. They have a very busy schedule, what with all the progeny to show off and tacos to eat while they are here. 

Today, Steven joined me for the 90-minute spin class (way more fun than a 90-minute conversation). Thankfully, I didn't have to pick her ass up in Pleasant Hill and drive her to Waukee because that would have taken about a year. She met me there, and after a long, drawn out, and seemingly pointless interaction wit the lady at the desk, we got her in to the class. 

Waiting for "Mary" the newest employee to find her log in and password...

A few weeks ago, I mentioned that I was glad she would be joining me because she could join in the totally irrational hatred I have for this chick that comes to the class (in all fairness, hated-chick told me about the class). 

Duck faces.

Steven is good at supporting me, even when I need support in totally irrational hatred. 

Girl to hate!

Also, when I mentioned said spin class, a few weeks ago, Steven texted back, "I am planning on the spin class on Sunday. I think Frontier can fly me home in a body bag after the class skills me." 

I should have know sandbaggery was afoot.

The teacher announced that it would be a hard class, and she sort of apologized because there were a lot of "new faces." And, reminded everyone that they could take it easy and do what was right for them and their workout. Steven did not take this to heart.

She went balls-to-the-wall the whole workout. Ah.maze-ing. She also became the "class clown" with lots of good jokes and encouraging shouts of glee. Not very much hilarious-complaining, though. We did both agree that the class really needed some "mayoring it up."

I think bearing and feeding children is actually some sort of super-conditioning exercise. 

The class was pretty hard. A long warm up with hills, then a series of six different kind of hills, including one hill that was "like you are riding up a dirt road, then you get to a steep edge and you don't want to fall off the cliff, so you have to 'overload.'"

We did a lot with our watts. 

On Saturday, while we sobered up at the basketball game, Steven and I invented the concept of the "imaginary" Coors Light and the "imaginary shots of Templeton" to replace the ones we might otherwise be drinking. Between hills 3 and 4 was shared an imaginary Coors, and then later an imaginary shot of whiskey. Imaginary drinking is surprisingly effective and with far fewer calories. 

Meh, then it was over. Thank beaver. 

After class, we wiped off our bikes, and I "accidentally" handed my nemesis my sweaty dirty towel to clean her bike off with, even though I saw she had a clean one in hand. "Oh, here you need this towel." Zing!

Then, Steven had to coordinate some more baby-feeding. 

We made tentative plans to hang out in the afternoon, but you know parents...so busy with their "children." 

"Okay, don't worry, Maybe, I generated 400-calories worth of milk while riding my bike."

It was really fun to have someone to laugh with during the class. That is the magic of the Old Sandbaggers. They have painful ideas, but they make the suffering so much fun, it turns out to be awesome in the end. 

Happy Valentine's and Galentine's Day!

I know I have been winter-hatin' it up a snow-storm, but there is some stuff that I love about winter, and so on Valentine's Day, I will tell you about it.

1. I love my new skis!

Ski-love

I finally bit the bullet and bought a set of cross country skis. They were used, but I got new bindings, new boots, and new poles from Play-it-Again Sports in Urbandale. Cody, who is awesome, helped me get set up and I was skiing by the afternoon. 

So far I have only taken them out in Wittmer Park, and I have only gone down tiny hills, but I haven't fallen at all! And, actually, they kind of make me want more snow and cold days. 

2. I love my parka.

Sadly, it's broken

I have been wearing the crap out of my Mountain Hardwear Sub Zero down parka. And, alas, it broke. Half of the zipper came off, and I broke some of the teeth. If I can get it clean, I might be able to convince MHW to fix it for me, and while they are at it, they might even replace the baffle that is now "fixed" with a massive duct tape patch.

If not, I might have to retire the coat. First, I was like, "geez, it is not even that old." Then, I remembered, I bought it during my hurrication in 2005, so it is 9-years old. Not super old in the lives of well made jackets, but it is no spring chicken. I love all my nice gear that keeps me warm and happy, and I am reminded of that even more when I don't have it anymore. 

That being said, I did get my Chacoas re-chacoed. They have new soles, new straps, and look fabulous. Getting this done was one of my punishments last month, because I hate the drudgery of filling out websites, going to the post office, blah blah blah, but I am glad I got it done!

3. I love Wild Hockey and my awesome friends.

Great seats!

Emily S and I had been talking about going to a Wild hockey game this year, and then she got free tickets! We went last weekend, and it was great. The Wild beat the Chicago Wolves in a very exciting over-time, and we had corn dogs and beer and a long walk in the cold.

It also reminded me of how lucky I am to have such great friends. I have so many fun, smart, just delightful people to share my life and winter with. 

I was especially reminded of this last night when I introduced Emily S to Chris at her Galentine's Day Party. It was just a bunch of ladies, drinking wine and hanging out and eating snacks, but it was so fun! I love my friends and I love that my friends love my friends.  (No pictures from Galentine's because no technology was allowed, sorry!).

4. Dogs, and heat lamps.

This will work.

I stayed home a couple days last week because the roads were in rough shape. Holiday enjoyed having a couple non-kennel days. It got a bit chilly, so I cranked up the heat lamp while I graded papers. Holiday found a cozy spot to relax with me. I just love that darn dog. She is just the best. 

5. I love working out with Goldie!

Car, plow, car, car

Goldie and I have been doing strength training Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, and it has been great! She picks me up and we head down to the YMCA. We alternate routines and try to throw some "cardio bursts" into the work out. 

We even saw a tall, handsome triathlete do a bad-ass handstand, and I did the rowing machine.

Wednesday marked six weeks into 2014, and six weeks into my getting-back-into-regular-exercise-and-not-die-on-the-mountains, and it's been great. The things that hurt when I don't work out no longer hurt and the things that hurt when I do workout are starting to hurt again, so that's a good sign. And, I am feeling good, so that's good. 

And, as a romantic Valentine's Day treat, I give you the cutest video ever: people proposing and getting married in the National Parks. Awwhhh. 

What happens at Bacon Fest...

...goes in this blog.

So, I went to Bacon Fest. Obviously, I understand the irony of writing about Bacon Fest in a blog dedicated to fitness and weight loss. But, I was sort of tricked into going. I have never been. It just didn't seem like that good of an idea, and as the number people attending crept from 1,000 to 2,000, to 6,000 to 8,000 it was even less appealing.

Bacon Fest was just an expensive ticket to be crowded in to a building at the Fairgrounds, eating bacon, which is delicious, don't get me wrong. It is just a bit too heavily memed if you ask me. Anyway, based on complicated circumstances we were going. 

First step, work out. I needed to establish a serious calorie deficit, so I went to the gym. First, I swam for thirty minutes. Then, I spun for 45. Then I did yoga for 45. Also, I had a kale and orange juice for breakfast. 

Extreme bad Y parking: not just taking two spots, but hanging out into the lot. Shame!

We were going with a big group of people that included my siblings, the Des Moines Roosters, folks from my sister's and Kelly's office, The Energy Group, and us. I called Kelly to find out when he was going. "When I get there, I will want to start drinking beer, and I don't need to start drinking beer at 10am." Agreed. We were bringing the lovely and talented Emily S, and we all agreed to arrive around 11. 

We picked up Emily S and drove to the fairgrounds. It was busy. The whole parking lot on the north side of the fairground was full. We found a spot, walked all the way to the east side of the fairgrounds, then on to the grand concourse. There we found the line started at the east side of the Varied Industries Building. It streamed all the way to a new building on the east side of the fairgrounds. Suffice it to say, it was a long, long, long line. 

The "Goodie" Bag

Once we got through security and check in and picked up all our bacon fest stuff, we could proceed into the actual fest. We decided to start at our table, which was in the Edmundson Building, or something. We were in the not-so-cool building. It was so crowded. You had to descend into the building to get to the floor and it was a sea of humanity, with a cloud of bacon smoke hanging over the top. We found our way through the most pit to the table. Kelly and Les were there with their wives. We said hello, found our "free tickets," and fought our way to the beer and food stands. Emily S and I had a plan to team up but we lost each other instantly. It is not fun to be in such a crowd when you are short. 

Free snacks for dogs too. Holiday had too many and threw up all over Emily and Luke's house during the Super Bowl. 

We got some tacos, some beer, and some bacon crab rangoons and hung out for a bit. Then a group of people fought their way to the Varied Industries building. Emily S and I were the only ones who managed to stay together, which was good, because she is pretty much the perfect person to do most things with. We got the "bacon pineapple quesadilla" and some more beer, then Emily S got in line to go to the bathroom. 

While I was leaning on a Mini Cooper and waiting for her, I realized I was standing next to the one and only Hacksaw Jim Duggins. (He's a wrestler.) So I took his picture.

He was so jolly!

Then Emily S and I went to the Gusto Pizza stand, because Masinga was working there.

Masinga, doing her thing.

As we were waiting in line, the Tiger found me, which he always does. We ate our pizza and then thought about going into the Templeton booth, but then just went for a bacon wrapped rib.

Because, why not wrap a rib in bacon.

Sister Emily said it was amazing. I was not that excited about it, but we took a picture for Cool Hand Luke, Emily S's fiance,

Rib-a-licious

Then, we decided to wander back over to the other building. But we stopped so the Tiger could make a friend.

I think the Nixon thumb is catching on.

We hung out at the table for a bit and tried to burn through some extra tickets. Then I got a text from my sister. She and the footie boys were in "Club Sizzle," a "nightclub like space" behind the stage in our building. Emily S and I made our way over there, and it was a whole different world.

Instead of booths and crowds and bacon snacks and beer, there was crowds of people, bacon snacks, beers and cocktails, but also white leather couches, mood lighting, and go-go dancers!

Get it girl

There was also a fairly amazing performer of aerial acrobatics. It was so impressive that sister-Emily actually later signed up for the gym where you can learn those tricks.

Now, why Bacon Fest needed a "night club" like atmosphere I don't know. It was bizarre to be full of bacon and beer and for it to be daylight and to be dancing to club music, with haze of bacon smoke in the air, in a building at the state fair grounds. This might have been the most bizarre moment. Maybe.

Soon enough we left Club Sizzle and decided to round up our stuff and head back to the Varied Industries building to spend up our tickets and close out of the day. We gathered our stuff and headed back out into the cold.

Bacon Fest PhotoBooth

Lots of the vendors were out food and packing up, and quickly we realized it was going to be a bit of a challenge to find a way to spend our tickets.

I bought this toffee, because I could take it with me.

Goes in the purse! Actually delicious. 

Soon, it was last call and the Tiger still had a drink ticket. They wouldn't sell him another drink, but he did get two Cokes. 

$2 a can, what a deal!

We kind of milled around, got some free bacon, and hung out, in kind of a bacon-coma.

Easy-E: The Bacon Ring-Leader

Bacon grease stain on a shoe

The $nack$ were playing at the main stage, we we wandered over there to listen.

Hey, that's a DMACC ad on the screen.

The drummer was wearing a horrible pig mask that was terrifying. Then this guy with a poncho got up and rapped, which was pretty amazing. 

Did you see the bacon on the floor, asks Hammie?

Yes, I will slide across it.

Dancing would have been an option, except for one major problem. Bacon grease + polish concrete floor. 

Notice the sheen.

Bacon-fettii

This was a bridge too far for me. I love bacon. It is delicious. I don't want to stop eating it, but I also acknowledge that the pig is a smart, noble creature. It is one thing to kill it, eat it, and celebrate its products with an over-the-top festival. It is another thing to throw meat on the floor. I mean, how disgustingly American and wasteful is that?!

We tried to make the best of it, though, and get down.

Moments before slipping and falling on his butt.

Then, we decided to leave, so we trucked back out into the cold, walked across the frigid fairgrounds, and loaded our much heavier selves into the Mazda and headed home. We dropped Emily S off at home, then went to the store. I wanted to buy some red wine to try to save my heart. I didn't even drink it. I just crashed on the sofa with a movie, drank a gallon of water, and then went to bed. 

The next day, I got up and went to the 90-minute spin class to try to do some damage control. The instructor did a Super Bowl edition of the class where there were two workout options for each set. One of the students would flip the coin for either Broncos or Seahawks. Broncos were hills. Seahawks speed. We did a lot of hills.

After class, I explored the Tiger's "goodie bag." Mine had been "cleaned up" when I was in Club Sizzle.

He got a tshirt

And a bacon jar opener...

And an ad for a bike ride.

Now, again, I am trying not to be a lefty-prude, and laugh at the joke, and what-have-you. But, "Ride for the Cured." Really?! Clearly a play on the "Ride for the Cure". Which is a bike ride that raises money for diabetes research. Diabetes is serious! Eating too much bacon is bad for you. C'mon.

All-in-all, I had a good time at Bacon Fest. Yes, it was expensive. Yes, it was insanely-busy, and yes, it was over-rated, but I did get to hang out with cool folks, eat tasty food, and drink Coors Light. Add bike riding too it, and you'd have ragbrai, right? 

I think, though, that Bacon Fest is just too much. Too much money. Too much marketing. Too many people. Too much hype. Too much meme, and sadly, a little too little attention to the larger conversation relating to issues of excess, health, and animal rights. I don't want to be a buzz kill. I really don't, but I don't think I'll go back to Bacon Fest. It just left a bad taste in my mouth.

The Time Kenyans: The Clock is Always Slower

A couple Sundays ago I was in the 90-minute spin class, parked behind a group of three ladies, which I will refer to as "mommy triathletes." I don't know if they are actually mommies, but I can about gar-un-darn-tee you they are triathletes. It's the hats, those low, lightweight vaguely baseball caps, that make them stick out.

You know the hats I am talking about.

Now, remember, I spent a solid 90-minutes behind these ladies, so I got a good look at 'em. They were all quite fit, as you might imagine, but the one on the left had the most amazing bod: trim waist, muscular arms, and the most amazing legs I have ever seen. I swear they were about as big as the gal's waist. Just tone muscles for miles. Looking at her made me want to rip my own legs off. I don't know how she buys pants, but she looked good. 

Of course, I imagine all sorts of things about these gals, but mostly I imagine all the time they probably get to spend on their fitness. They just drive their kids to school in their Lexus crossover vehicles and then proceed to swim, spin, run, and pump iron for the next 5-7 hours before they go home and prepare a lovely meal of organic chicken and kale. 

I put them in a category with the ladies that can go to all the "good classes" at the Walnut Creek YMCA that are during the day. Or the ladies on the VeloRosa bike team who send an email on a Tuesday morning: "Anyone want to ride gravel around 2 this afternoon?"

Geez, am I the only one who works around here?

Mommy triathletes get the brunt of my jealousy. But, I even grow a bit envious of Goldie. She has a demanding job, for sure, but her job is flexible, so that she can sneak out in the afternoon for a yoga class or a run. (I conveniently forget that she is working while I am at my Sunday 90-minute spin class). 

If I could just work out as much as _____________ , then life would perfect, obviously.

Goldie, I don't think she will mind if I mention this, has the same green-eyed feeling about other people's workout schedules. She told me a story about a local lady, who teaches Body Pump at the Y btw, who did some sort of BRR-Ride equivalent on gravel, then ran 6 miles to a bar, danced, partied, etc, then ran 6 miles back. WTF?!?

We were also discussing the Tiger on our way home from the gym the other morning. Don't ask me how we got on this topic, but she asked, quite fairly, why the Tiger can't work out. "I mean, it's not like he has a kid! I mean, I work out during the day, but my evenings are totally devoted to kid-time." (Goldie chime in on the comments if I am getting this wrong).

While Goldie has a flexible job, she does have a kid. A very demanding kid. He's smart and hyperactive and he loves his mommy. He is pretty much just a small, male version of Goldie, which, btw, proves all those mothers right when they said "I can't wait until you have a kid that turns out just like you." 

I was thinking about this, and then I read Steven's blog a couple of days ago. And, I can hear her frustration echoing across the blogosphere. 

Steven has a lot on her plate. She works, she raises kids, she cooks, she cleans, she nurses, she blogs. She runs a household, she's a great friend, she's a great educator, and she does a ton of sh!t I don't even about. Now wonder she has a hard time finding a few minutes to workout. 

The Tiger said this morning, "I just don't know how mothers do it. I just don't understand." Neither do I. I can't even begin to understand how she does it. There have been times in my life when I have been so swamped that I could not get the work+life+fitness equation to balance, but now is not that time. In fact, I feel incredibly privileged that I can structure my day to get to the gym once or even twice. 

But, if I am looking at those mommy-triathletes with workout-jealousy, then I should remember that there might be people looking at me the same way. Now, this doesn't completely follow Steven's brilliant Kenyan theory, because I am pretty sure that I don't aspire to be a mommy-triathlete. I mean, I look terrible in hats, for one. But, it gives me good perspective.

I think I just have to remember that those mommy-triathletes are just doing what they can do when they can do it, and, by god, that's how sh!t gets done, yo. And, we have to be proud of ourselves, because as cheesey as the cliche is, we are all beating the people on the couch. 

Back in the Day Friday: RAGBRAI Annoucement Paaarttay

Last month Team Beaver made our first ever showing at the RAGBRAI Announcement Party. In years past, we all watch the internet feed and text one another furiously, but we decided to spring for a VIP table and round up 10 beavers and potential beavers so we could relive our night of Fairfield-Spazmatic-Magic.

Because we were VIPs (i.e. we bought ten tickets for an extra $5 each) we got to arrive at 7, rather than 8, and therefore eat more of the snacks and drink more of the free beer than the "regular people." But before we could leave, we had to pick out our outfits.

This was more tricky for some of us. For me, because I am fat as a tick right now and I have to worry about the dangers of the "skin belt" when I wear my sexy-beaver shirt. For the Tiger, well, he was one of those beavers who loves a muscle-shirt. He only has one beaver-shirt. For complicated reasons, he decided not to order a new one. Thankfully, he is good at innovative solutions.

He made me take this picture 3 times.

He just layered his muscle shirt over a gray polo shirt. Not only did he get sleeves, but he got a collar!

We rode in the Stew-Mobile, and picked up Pete and Masinga on the way and arrived just a bit after 7. 

They don't call him "Dick Stew" for nothing.

We found our table, and promptly fixed the name on the placard.

Tiffany and a new beaver, "Nasty Nate" were already there. Nate looks particularly hunky in his team beaver gear. He is also doing double duty with the blogs thanks to his fantastic stach!

Welcome Nate "Figjam"

We took some pictures for the Mayor. 

Greetings Mayor!

And the Becks arrived!

Still on a cleanse at this point, go Becks!

Team Party Beavers!

At 8 there was a quick announcement from TJ, the Ragby director, then the band came on. So we led the charge to the stage. It have to say, it look a lot longer for this crowd to warm up than a normal ragby crowd.

Though, this guy was very enthusiastic. 

We quickly made some friends.

Beavers and silver foxes

Ragbrai-ers who attend the RAP are a bit more subdued than when they are on the ragby, but I guess that is to be expected. They don't have the armor of spandex or the endorphin of a day on the bicycle.

They do have the same dance moves, though. 

So, we danced up a storm for I don't know how long, drank some light malt beverages and had a good time. 

Then, the band took a break and TJ came on stage, so we retreated back to the table. It was only like 9pm, so I figured they were going to do some prizes or something. Quickly, I realized, though, that they were announcing the actual route.

Wait a minute. I thought that didn't happen until like 11pm? Nope, it was happening.

There it is.

I am going to say that being at the party is probably like watching a professional football game in the stands. Yes, it's exciting to be there, but you can't really see what is going on or hear very well. It is much clearer when you are watching at home from the sofa. 

But, we got the route. And it was a short, flat, and northern route! 

Little did we know, more excitement would follow...dun, dun, dah.

Then the band came back on stage, and we proceeded to party.

Look at us with the band!

Wait kind of cleanse is this?

And, we were having a great time. The party started picking up. We were enjoying our new beavers, Jennie and Mo, who were dancing super stars. 

The Spazmatics sometimes invite people on stage, but they hadn't during this show. Some people were climbing or scampering up there anyway, though. Including one very  unfortunate girl. She was in her late twenties, wearing yoga pants (right?), an owl t-shirt, and a knitted beany with a flower on it. And she was swooping and sliding all over the stage like she was at a Phish concert. Her eyes kind of looked like she was at a Phish concert if you know what I mean. 

There is an etiquette to stage dancing, and she was not following it. I mean, lady, no one came here to see you dance. Sorry! At one point the lead singer was like, "you are annoying me." And finally her friend convinced her to abdicate the stage. The crowd started chanting the lyrics to the "nah, nah, nah, hey hey goodbye" song. 

Then, later, she came back. 

This was getting to be a bit silly. She was swooping and shimmying all over the place. Her friend tried to get her off the stage, but she just beconed him on the stage. Then a security guard came to talk to her. She just ignored him. Then he tried to guide her off the stage, but she swooped out of his grasp. Then, another security guard joined him.

Then, another.

Then, another.

Until there were six security guys, one friend, and a stoned dancing girl. The guards sort of walled off the stage and herded to her to the side and then something happened. The Tiger, who was back at the stage said, it looked like a stream of blood or a tooth or something flew through the air. But, she either pushed or kicked a security guard off the stage. Then, the other five grappled with her, but man, she was slippery because she kept evading their grasp.

Finally, they got her off stage. Apparently she had kicked the lead guitar wires out, so there was a momentary re-plugging. The band played one more song, and then left. No encores for bad ragbrai-ers. Let that be a lesson to you.

Masinga said she saw the girl getting carted off in a po-po car as she walked out with the Becks. Which is kind of sad. Later, Goldie did some research and found out she was from Illinois, so we all breathed a sigh of relief (except for me, who is technically also from Illinois. Shhh...don't tell anyone). 

But, a very good time was had by all. It wasn't the same as the actual ragby party, but it was a fun, fun night. I would probably only go again if the band was really awesome. 

Ragby makes us feel like this!

As for the actual route, there was some grumbling on the blogs and twitter and what-have-you. Apparently some folks, including Karras, don't think it is hard enough. 

The Mayor thinks ragby is still in shock from 2012, the year that scorched ragby. 

I have to say, this is the only year that I was secretly hoping for a southern, hilly, long route. Ragby will be my last "event" before the Triangle and I thought it would be good to get my butt kicked a bit. Any other year I would be super stocked. The north is flat, and cooler, and just really nice. 

No matter what, it is the ragby, the most magical week of the year, and just 162 short days away. 

If you'd like to watch a video of the event, to feel like you were there, too, here you go.