The Attack of the Dive Bombers

We were on a lovely trail headed to some lakes off the Cascade Highway. I was delighted that the recent cold weather had knocked out the mosquitoes. It was clear, warm with a slight breeze. My task for the day was 3 hours of running. I had just come off the bike and headed into the "brick workout".

It was quiet. No one on the trail. I felt unstoppable, like I could go forever. And then the attack began. Buzzing dive bombing bees. They got S'Kaana, he rolled into the mud, rubbing his face. They nailed me on my legs and arms. I frantically waved my arms and sprinted up a hill, yelling inappropriate words. I was a mad women staggering as fast as I could using my water bottle as a weapon. The attack stopped as fast as it had begun. But the war was still on. As we proceeded, "licking our wounds" the buzzing began again. They are tenacious buggers. Stealthy. Persistent. My frenzied antics were not successful. But I had a plan.

I took a water break, gritted my teeth and exposed my arm to the flying "Red Baron". He landed. There was a minuscule moment of concern for the life of this annoying insect and then my water bottle struck. He fell to the ground, his wings crushed, blood oozing from his wounds. I take no prisoners! My foot rose and fell without a thought of regret. The bug was now juice on the bottom of my shoe. S'Kaana felt the sweet taste of revenge.

We pressed on, listening for more flying commandos. There, another one was preparing to stage a come back battle. I raised my shoe and let them sniff the blood of a fallen comrade. They recoiled, like a vampire to the smell of garlic. They watched from a distance. For the rest of the run, when any came near, I gave them my "sole" and we were allowed to pass unharmed. I'm thinking of marketing this as a very effective insect repellent. Not sure if any one would want to smear bug juice all over themselves. But those bites are painful. Luckily we made it back to the car in one piece and some wounds to share as a testament to our "War of the Bugs".

My Running Buddy

This is my best running buddy, S'Kaana. He is always eager to go and never complains. He always finds the water and keeps the man eating squirrels at bay. He knocks me over, sprays me with water, as he shakes, to cool me down and shares my lunch. His enthusiasm for life is infectious. Sometimes, after the alarm goes off, he snuggles closer and stares at me until I roll out of bed and put on my running clothes. S'Kaana does not like my bike. The mountain bike is good, but not the road bike. He knows what is in store for him by the shoes and hat I put on. Is it a romp down by the river or a long boring asphalt pounding grind or staying at home while I get a ride in? His love is unconditional and he never holds a grudge. What's that quote,"I wish I were half the person my dog thinks I am".

The Magic of the Ride

I can not say whether it is spiritual, magical or a combination of both. Something happens when I get on my bike and start to ride. When I first started in triathlons I had a comfort bike. Not the fastest one on the road. I then upgraded to a very sturdy steel frame and got my first tri-bars. Also tried clip in pedals with mountain biking shoes. As I got more entrenched in the sport, I began to have bike envy. My steel frame was reliable and I had good components, but I was not "in love". Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, it was stolen. I was then presented with the task of finding a bike fast as my Ironman was coming up in a few months. It takes a while to fit your bike and get comfortable with it, so I was anxious to buy one and start training. Where do I start?

I walked into my favorite shop, Johnathan's Bike Shop and yelled help. Well everything fell into place. Johnathan advised me on a frame to suit my needs and my body type, we picked the color, he made the call and the company had one my size and color and only one. We ordered and I spent many hours picking out the brakes, the handle bars, the speed plates, the color of the taping, wheels, bottle racks, it was like preparing for a new baby. And then I had to wait. And wait. Pieces started to arrive. Johnathan started to assemble them. Then the frame arrived. I was not allowed to see it til it was made whole.

After what seemed like years, I got the call. As I walked into the shop I spotted a bike in the window, and it was love at first sight. I was dismayed that I had waited so long for mine and there was the bike of my dreams, right in the window of his shop. Johnathan saw my longing and with a big grin, pointed and said, that was mine. Oh! I was breathless. There was a spirit about my bike. The ruby red weave shimmered in the sunlight. The shinny black wheels spoke of long fast distances to be traveled. The tri-bars and seat were set to my body frame, perfect, so comfortable, like a favorite old leather chair. My bike beckoned to me, come with me, ride the wind, together we will create magic. And we did. We qualified for Hawaii. We, Kaua in Hawaiian, was his name.

When we landed on the Big Island for the championships, it was surreal. It was an unbelievably amazing experience. Made more so by the tragic events of 9-11. So much emotion, excitement and energy. We headed out to the lava fields to pay tribute to Pele. I picked a spot high on the ridge of lava overlooking the sea. I stacked rocks, left coral and sea-shells and asked Pele for a safe journey for all of us. The director of the race offered a prayer the morning of the race asking the bikes to carry us safely to the finish.

Kaua and I were put to the test. The winds that year were the strongest ever recorded. They were pushing racers off the road into the lava beds. So many times Pele threw her anger at us. But we stayed stronger. So many times I almost flew off the course, almost fell over, almost lost hope to finish. But we persevered. It was truly a mystical moment. After 112 miles of a gruelling course, I rounded the last turn and headed into the transition, we had done it. Kaua had endured. I was in tears, from shear exhaustion, gratitude to have survived and the feeling of belonging to something magical, something bigger than all of us.
Every time I head out on a ride, I give thanks that I have had a safe journey and give hope that it remains so. Way too many others have not been so blessed. There is definitely a spirit connection with my bike, Kaua. Can that really be the case? We have now had over eight years together. Much longer than any of my old boy friends. We did crash once, in San Jose. It was very ugly. As they were calling the ambulance, my only thoughts were, where is my bike going to fit in the ambulance and why can't I finish the race. Well, it was only a concussion, road rash for me and Kaua and some stitches in my head. We, have been very fortunate.

We spend a lot of time together. Those 6 hour, hundred mile training rides leave a lot of time to contemplate and philosophize. My family is probably jealous of my bike. He does live in the bedroom and has a special seat inside the car. Wait til I tell you about my running buddy, S'kaana. Be safe out there and share the road. Deb

Who What?

I think people who spend a lot of time on the bike have a weird sense of humor. I was tutting along, no pun intended, on a great day through the forrests along the Cascade Highway, admiring the lakes and rivers, when I noticed some writing on the road. Thinking it must be words of encouragement for a rider during a recent race, I was thrilled with the prospect of receiving the powerful thoughts behind the well intended phrase. Something like, well, "way to go" or "you're almost there" or better yet, "what a stud". But, to my complete disappointment, the perfectly lettered message said "Who Farted?"

Bodily function discussions are topics for new parents, the geriatric crowd at an evening gathering or with my clients regarding their beloved pet. Not something I wish to see scrolled on the roadway. However, I almost lost control of my bike from laughing so hard. When training or during a race, it can become the main focus of your thoughts. Where do I stop to take care of my needs? Who will pass me if I stop now? Can I hold it a bit longer? Can I find a tree? And most importantly, do I have some TP?

So, to whomever the message was intended, I hope you had a good day of riding and that no one was behind you.