Seattle to Portland Ride Report!

It's been two weeks since I completed my epic journey from Seattle to Portland. The STP Bicycle Classic was a tiring, logistic whirlwind, but now that I've put some space between myself and the event, I can honestly say that it was a truly great experience. Thank you to those who were able to donate to my fundraising for this ride- you truly helped define the 5 1/2 month journey that got me to this point.

My adventure began Thursday afternoon. I flew out to Seattle early, so I could visit Dave, Christine, Ryan and Jeff (who was up from Portland with his girlfriend Andrea). They were all preparing to embark on a weekend camping trip, and we gathered at Dave and Christine's house in the charming Queen Anne neighborhood. We had dinner at home that evening and brunch in Ballard the next morning. It was such a treat to see them all, especially in their neck of the woods.

Friday morning they dropped me off at the Marriott Renaissance where Team In Training was staying. It was early, so I had time to lay around my room until everyone else on the team flight arrived. Once my teammates showed up around noon, several of us took a quick stroll to Pike Place, and stopped at the grocery store to pick up some snacks and things for breakfast the next morning. I was excited to get a breakfast burrito, as I'd spotted a microwave in our hotel room. It would be so much faster to eat in my room the next morning.

The rest of the day was nonstop: we picked up our bikes, had dinner, had our team meeting. We had a 5:30am roll time, so that meant an ungodly 4:30am wakeup call! Corinne was my roommate, and we got ready for bed and it was lights out at 8:30pm. Of course it was impossible to fall asleep this early. If you know me well, you know I am a night owl, and the only time I'm in bed before 10pm is if I've got the flu and I've knocked myself out with NyQuil. It's especially hard when you know the sun is out until almost 10pm in the Pacific Northwest. It probably took me an hour to fall asleep, and it was a restless sleep at that.

Night Spirit

 At 3am I woke up to use the bathroom. I quickly drifted back to sleep, but was soon awoken by the sensation of someone tightly tucking the sheets in all around my bed. I wasn't able to move, and then I felt someone stroking my hair. I thought to myself, is that Corinne? But then I thought, uh, no, that would be really weird. I peered above me and saw a gray image of what was a really old Native American woman. I wasn't scared, because she seemed benevolent. This went on for a couple minutes and then I kicked my feet and snapped out of it, and I was back in my ordinary hotel room. Classic "Old Hag Syndrome" which I've experienced before, but I don't know? Maybe the Renaissance Marriott is built on top of sacred land? It is the Pacific Northwest, and Native American memories are everywhere.

I'm With Stupid

I did several Stupid Things on my first day of riding. The first was to open up the closet (yes, the closet) to use the microwave I'd seen yesterday (why is it in the closet?), only to discover that is was actually the room safe. There was no microwave, and I had a frozen breakfast burrito in my hand. And it was 5am. Crap. So I had to rush and buy breakfast in the lobby. And, yes, I tried to bite into cold. That's how desperate I was.

Seriously, you could make the same mistake

The weather at 5:30 Saturday morning was typical Seattle, minus the rain. It was cold and overcast. All of us were expecting warmer weather and were underdressed. I cursed my lack of knee warmers. Less than a mile into the ride, I almost fell off my bike coming to a stop at the top of a hill. Instead of asphalt, the pavement was made up of tiny pebbles and it was really slippery! I haven't fallen since I was a newbie, and was hoping this was not going to set the tenor of my day.

Lake Washington at sunrise

The views riding out of Seattle were gorgeous- lush and green with a stunning sunrise over Lake Washington. The rest of the morning went smoothly, but once we got to the lunch stop, I did Stupid Thing #2- I forgot to lock the door on the porta potty. I've never done that before, and a woman opened the door right while I was standing up to pull my shorts back on! I don't know which one of us screamed more loudly! I had to wait in the porta potty for a few minutes to make sure no one still in line would recognize me as "that person" who forgot to lock the door.

We were riding 110 miles on day 1- as we had to make it to Bethel Church in Chehalis, WA, slightly beyond the halfway point. Before that point, though, we passed through Centralia College at mile 100, and were warned that this could be a demoralizing experience.  It was like riding through the Garden of Earthly Delights. There was music and food. There were girls handing out chocolate milk. There was a disembodied voice on a loudspeaker announcing ice cold beer. Cyclists streamed around us, tottering on their slippery cleats, legs wobbly from long miles and the subtle effects of beers in hand. 

But this was not for us. It was onward to Chehalis, and ten miles somehow felt like two hours riding time. Eventually we made it, and it was much better than Centralia. There was a big open field with hay bales where we pitched our tents. There were showers, massage therapists, and the Tour de France was looping on TV's in the main lobby. I decided to wash my cycling vest in the bathroom sink, which sparked my final Stupid Thing of the day, completing my holy trinity of stupid acts. As I rinsed the hand soap out of my vest, I was startled by a man who walked into the bathroom and stopped and stared at me. "I'm in the wrong bathroom, aren't I?" I said. "Uh... yeah. Didn't you notice the urinals?" he replied. I wordlessly wadded up my vest and walked out.

But I shook it off quickly and went to dinner. I was grateful to be in a quiet setting, with a 30 minute massage booked, and a second  helping of veggie lasagna on my plate. We crawled into our tents at sundown in anticipation of a slightly more civilized 6:30am roll time.

Home sweet tent in Chehalis, WA

Day 2

My alarm was set for 5:15, but I woke up at 4:45 due to people rustling outside, wanting to get an early start. I slept surprisingly well- the tent was toasty, the grass underneath was soft and flat, and there were no visions of Native American spirits. I quickly broke down my tent, got my stuff packed and on the gear truck, and ate some breakfast. A couple people had injuries and someone had a flat, so that delayed everyone and I don't think we got started until almost 7am.  No complaints here.

Day two's journey took us through many rural southern Washington towns on our way to Oregon. It was certainly not my beloved Bay Area. I saw many pro-gun and anti-Obama/Socialism signs and bumper stickers, but this was tempered by the warm welcomes we received in many small towns. A lot of people sat in their front yards and cheered us on while we rolled through.

One of the highlights of day 2 was crossing the Columbia River over the Lewis and Clark Bridge, marking our entry into Oregon. Longview is on the Washington side of the bridge, and I decided it was the quintessential logging town, even though I'd never visited one before. There is something spartan and slightly forgotten about Longview, as though most of it were still trapped in the 1960s. 

Longview, WA with Mount St. Helens in the background

Crossing over the Lewis and Clark Bridge was quite the event. The cyclists were to have a motorcycle escort across the bridge, so the ride organizers alternately closed traffic to cars, and then bicycles, as we each took our turns over the span. My teammates and I joined a holding tank of cyclists on the Washington side of the bridge for 20 minutes while the cars crossed over. Once they gave us the orange flags, signaling our turn to cross, we were a couple hundred cyclists strong, and mood was festive with everyone whooping it up. The excitement quickly turned to quiet concentration as everyone rode onto the bridge and made sure to not crash into other riders. The cyclists formed three lanes of traffic, with slower riders on the right. About halfway across was the Washington-Oregon border, and as everyone passed through, loud cheers erupted along with a fury of bike bell ringing! I wish I could have maneuvered a video camera at this point, it was really a high point.

Our crossing was much more crowded than this

Once over the river we were in Rainier, Oregon, and in the home stretch to Portland! The rest of the day we plugged along. Predictably, I started to wear down about 12 miles from the finish, so I decided to take a Gu, which was an excellent decision as it got me through the final stretch, and those final miles really required awareness. On the outskirts of the city we flew along a slightly downhill grade until we got into the residential part of Portland. Here, I was made jealously aware of what a great place this is for cycling. The whole street was a bike lane, and it was pleasantly flat. This was about 3 miles out from the finish, and what a contrast this would prove to be once we got to the very end of the ride! 

Due to construction, we had to be routed over the Steel Bridge, which is a pedestrian bridge that is also used by cyclists. Riding over this bridge was unnerving: We had to dodge joggers, people with strollers, and the local bike commuters- in both directions. Not to mention we had to contend with about a thousand of our STP compatriots, who were by now punchy after a long day in anticipation of the finish. It only got worse once we were off the bridge.

We entered downtown Portland at the heart of rush hour, and had to contend with traffic that, as a lone cyclist on a regular day would have been nothing, but today the streets were clogged with 200 cyclists at each intersection. I kept getting crowded out by this racy roadie in a Starbuck's jersey, and I was really annoyed that he ignored the obvious fact that I was riding with a team, as he continually cut me off and caused me to get dropped off the back. I eventually carefully edged passed him- I was not going to ride all this way only to crash in the last 1/8 mile! 

Once the got to the final blocks, the atmosphere was electric. I hadn't been this excited to finish a ride since my first season with Team In Training! Crowds of well-wishers lined the streets, and once we got to Holladay Park, we rode into a tunnel to the finish line, with people on the edges reaching out to high-five us! It was an awesome feeling, and we quickly found our teammates and it was hugs all around and then off to the New Belgium beer garden for that long-awaited pint.

Fat Tire time!

In Search of the Perfect Pinot

We had little time after the ride finish to head to our hotel, check in, shower, and go to our victory dinner at Kell's Irish Pub. In fact, we had to ride two miles and back over the Steel Bridge! There were still a lot of people finishing STP, so it was like salmon swimming upstream. We had to endure not only the usual pedestrians, but also the bemused gibes of other cyclists encountering us riding in the "wrong" direction. We were next on the waterfront bike path with even more oblivious walkers. Once again, I felt the irony of possibly crashing, after the ride and on the way to the hotel!

Everyone made it safe and sound and we quickly cleaned up and had to walk a mile to Kell's on stiff legs. Remember, I said this was a logistic whirlwind of a weekend. The food was good and I completely overate, but that happens when you've road 200 miles and are in caloric deficit. A few of us hung out at the bar for a while after dinner, and I had a couple glasses of wine, searching for the perfect pinot. This was Oregon, and I was expecting a jammy glass of Willamette Valley's finest- but to no avail. Kell's served up predictably mediocre bar wine, and I was left unsatisfied. I rode all this way, and all I wanted was a decent, no, an exceptional glass of wine!

At Kell's-mediocre wine in hand

Purple Hands and purple teeth

I ended up hanging out with Jill for a while after others at our table left, and eventually we wandered back to the hotel, on the lookout for possible wine bars. Luck would have it- there was a great place one block from our hotel- Veritable Quandary. And here, finally, I found my perfect glass of Purple Hands Pinot Noir.

An Afternoon in Portland

My wine quest left me with a nasty headache Monday morning. I had to get up early to meet with Natalie Ramsland of Sweetpea Bicycles. Natalie is the framebuilder who will be making my new road bike. I'd been looking forward to this meeting for month, so I pounded water and groggily caught a cab. I was sad to leave before everyone else, and I missed any possible brunches or other outings that everyone was doing as a group. But I consoled myself with the fact that my teammates, who've been a my part of my life since the beginning of the year, would be out there on the road and I'd see many of them very soon.

Salmon hash, croissant, and caramel latte

The meeting with Natalie was great- I decided on my paint color and other details, and now the ball is rolling on my custom fit Sweetpea. I had a lot of time to kill until my evening flight back to SF, and luckily I was near the Alberta neighborhood, where there were a lot of distractions. I finally had breakfast (I felt like I was going to faint), and found several girly boutiques and scored some new dresses.

I was also able to meet up with Allan for lunch (though I was too stuffed from breakfast to eat) before I made my way back to downtown via bus. Portland public transport is much more pleasant than San Francisco's Muni, by the way. 

I spent my last idle hour sitting at the waterfront park, watching the bike commuters and people enjoying the afternoon. I walked a few blocks to the light rail and was on my way to the airport and home sweet home.

Waterfront Park

For more photos from Seattle to Portland, visit my Flickr page.

The Road Giveth and Taketh Away

This past weekend was to be the pinnacle of my Seattle-to-Portland training season, culminating in an 80 mile ride in Marin on Saturday, and a 65 mile ride out of Yountville on Sunday.

Saturday was an almost perfect ride day- 75 degrees and a lovely route from San Rafael out to Stinson Beach (thankfully no bike accidents like last year's ride on this same route on Memorial Day weekend). The day was just barely marred by chilly weather close to Stinson, but really I couldn't even go so far as to say that was a negative. The Death Ride team was also out in West Marin, and it was fun to see them breeze past our last SAG stop, shouting out jovial greetings.

Sunday was a different story entirely. Our ride left from Yountville in the Napa Valley. It started out innocuously, and in fact pleasantly. The IronTeam met at the same park where we started our ride. It's always fun to fraternize with the other teams, and once you've been involved in Team in Training for a few seasons, you start to know a lot of people from the other sports. It's like those cool crossover episodes where the detectives from Law & Order go to Baltimore to investigate a case with the guys from Homicide: Life on the Street.

I saw my friend Phil (aka IronPhil) from IronTeam and we wished each other well on our respective rides and runs and hoped to see each other back at the park around the same time 6 hours later...

The first 20 miles of our ride wound along the Silverado Trail, HWY 29, and through the beautiful Pope Valley. We're talking rolling hills along quiet country roads, surrounded by vineyards and oak trees hung with Spanish moss. Beautiful. But, oh, how it was to end so abruptly!

 Pope Valley view

As we began to follow a road that rose out of the valley toward Lake Berryessa, the temperature also began to rise. It quickly reached the point of being unbearable once we were in sight of the lake. We lost all tree cover and the sun beat brutally off the asphalt, reducing me to my lowest gear on even the slightest uphill grade. With each exhale of breath, a new expletive escaped my lips. Every time the road offered a little bit of descent, it spitefully began to climb again in a relentless succession of up and down. At first I was riding conservatively to preserve energy, but after a short time I had to out of necessity. We've had such a mild spring that none of us has trained in temperatures above 75 degrees, and we were not conditioned for this kind of heat. By noon temperatures had soared to a whopping 102 degrees! And who knows how much hotter it really was on the asphalt?

Thankfully my teammate, Libby, decided to pull off the road and rest in a lone shady spot. I'd already had one dry heave, so it was good to stop and sit for a while. Although my pride tends to stop me from bailing on a ride, instinct told me that I had the onset of heat exhaustion: rapid pulse, nausea, and chills. From that point, I never got back on the bike and disappointingly decided to SAG out at mile 43 of what should have been a 65 mile ride.

Me and my other teammate, Sarah, let a couple other people get picked up and driven off the route first, and we ended up waiting for over an hour to get rescued. The roving SAG left two lawn chairs for us, and as we sat in our diminishing patch of shade I was amazed at the number of motorcyclists and shirtless 20-something guys in trucks towing boats that honked and cheered at us from the road. I couldn't figure out if they were mocking us, or if we somehow looked cool. Maybe they thought we were just chillin' on the roadside with a hidden case of Bud Light- I don't know? I suspected most of them were already drinking on their way to even more drinking and boating.

 Lake Berryessa fauna example 1

Lake Berryessa fauna example 2

Happily we were picked up just before we would have had to move our lawn chairs back into poison oak by the base of our shade tree. I hadn't been this hot in I don't know how long. My cycling clothes were salty and I couldn't stop sweating. Riding back along the road in my teammate's car, I realized that, yeah, there was no way I could have finished that ride. There was no tree cover and the sun pounded the road all the way back to the park. After gathering my gear and my composure, I went to find IronPhil to see how he had fared- he had to SAG out, too, after throwing up on both the run and bike legs of his brick. Okay, I didn't feel so bad.

Everyone is expected to have one bad ride a season, and this was mine. Sometimes there are rides that are just bigger than you- clearly a lesson in self-awareness and humility. Strangely, I want to go back and do this ride again, but maybe not until November.

The Story I Don't Tell

For the past couple years, I've been fundraising for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. I've sent out a lot of updates about my cycling, and encouraging people to donate to the cause. I've told stories about conquering hills, conquering my mind, and being inspired by teammates who are cancer survivors. But there are stories I haven't told. I think I haven't talked about them, because reality can sometimes be a difficult thing. I haven't talked about them, because we all like happy endings. But the reality is, there is sometimes incredible sadness mixed in with stories of hope and inspiration.

One year ago, I was training for America's Most Beautiful Bike Ride around Lake Tahoe. I learned from a teammate about a young man who desperately needed a bone marrow transplant. Because he was half Caucasian and half Japanese, his chances of finding a donor were nearly impossible. There was a huge drive to find donors of any mixed Asian heritage, so I finally got on the national bone marrow registry. He eventually found a match, but unfortunately he still was not able to beat the disease, and he passed away in October 2009.

Today, I learned of the passing of a woman who was our Team Honoree during my first cycling season three years ago. Team Honorees are those people we honor who have beat or are fighting blood cancers. She eventually went on to complete a 100 mile bike ride the following year, after she finished chemo. I remember that first season, at our final send-off ride before the big event, she put her hands in paint and made hand prints on the backs of our jerseys, so that when the hills got steep, she would be there, "pushing us up to the top." My first and only event jersey I've ever worn is still the one that bears her hand prints. I thought that she had beat her cancer. It was heartbreaking to learn that she passed away Sunday, though not without many triumphs along the way.

This isn't my usual training update. I'm not writing this to simply tell a sad story. I think it's more that reality hit me today, that when you're involved in an organization that's trying to find a cure for cancer, there are many stories along the way, and some of them are painful. It reminds me why I'm doing this in the first place. When it seems like there's nothing we can do, there is something we can do, even if it doesn't seem like a lot.

Thanks for taking the time to read.

- Cheryl

I'm almost halfway to my fundraising goal, please donate

Team Spirit

Yesterday was team ride #4, out of Point Reyes. It's a beautiful ride, starting from the Bear Valley Visitor center. We got views of Tomales Bay and a few glimpes of the ocean, as we passed through Inverness, Abbotts Lagoon, Point Reyes Station, Nicasio, and Olema for a total of 40 miles. The route features two significant climbs at the beginning and end, and plenty of rolling terrain and windy flats. It was challenging, and gave us an opportunity to paceline.

What was significant about this ride was that our team finally gelled. A couple people moved to other groups, and we got two new people in ours. We were all similarly paced and stayed together, which is a good feeling.

I also felt even stronger on this ride than I did last week at Paradise Loop. I credit good health and that midweek training! I felt like I was channeling my old cycle self, charging up hills and feeling like I could go another 10 miles at the ride end. Now if only I could lose some weight, things would really pick up... I'll get there...

My Team (with a sliver of ocean in the background)

In action-leaving Abbott's Lagoon

Team Ride #3: Calaveras

"The Calveras Wall" 0.3 miles with 10-15% grades.

That was the defining aspect of my ride.  At the turnaround point, halfway through a 30 mile route on the twisty-with-breathtaking-views Calaveras Road in Sunol, we had an optional little hill to climb. Dropping down over the edge of The Wall and descending to its bottom, you have this feeling of, "there's no turning back." You have to ride up it now. Or walk it. And nobody wants to walk your bike. If you stop, you will likely have to walk the rest of the way because you can't get started again on a hill that steep. In the photos below, it looks innocuous, but the steepest part lies in the middle, unseen.

 

View from the bottom

 From the top looking down

In the cycling world, a "wall" is not called a wall for nothing. It's marked by a severe grade that can trouble even an experienced cyclist. The Wall was even featured in one of the stages of last year's Amgen Tour of California.

The last time I rode up the wall I almost bailed out halfway, where it gets really steep. Expletives flew from my mouth unrestrained. This time, with slightly lower gearing on my bike, there was no swearing, but the desire to quit was still there. My breath came to me in short and raspy gasps, and I seriously questioned my cardiovascular fitness. But I grinded to the top, motivated by my pride and the fear of falling over should I give up and attempt to unclip.

 

The Wall- a walking perspective to illustrate its steepness

None of this was helped by the fact that I am, six weeks after having been inflicted by the flu, still battling sinus congestion and drainage. My cough resurfaced yesterday after my efforts, and I am also battling unusual upper back pain, probably due to computer work, but certainly aggravated by riding. The truth is, I got started on the wrong foot this season. The flu stopped me from getting my training started, and here I am, a month into the season, and I have not set my foot into a gym or even considered a mid-week ride. All that will have to change this week.

So that was my ride. But what defined my day was our Honoree Potluck. The Honoree Potluck is where our Team Honorees, all cancer survivors or currently battling cancer, tell us their stories. It is always a moving event, and it reminds you why you're out there, and puts the whining about climbing something like The Wall into perspective. I can heave and gasp up The Wall, but decide halfway up that I'm not having it and bail out. But when you're on round 5 of chemo for acute myelogenous leukemia, you cannot.

Sunday morning as I write this, I'm about to get ready to attend a good friend's baby shower. A story that's in my mind from yesterday was one told by the mother of a leukemia survivor. Her daughter was diagnosed in her mid-20s, and her mom, who is a chemo nurse, told her that if she was thinking about having kids in the future, she needed to harvest her eggs now, before chemo put toxic chemicals into her body that would destroy her hopes of ever becoming a mother.

It was a devastating blow I hadn't known about, and I was shocked. Not only do you have to fight to simply survive this awful disease, but as a woman in child-bearing years, you might survive but then not be able to safely have children? Just terrible.

Several years later, there is a happy ending, as the woman is cancer free and now planning to use her saved eggs to have a baby with her husband next year. Research for the drugs used in her treatment, by the way, were partially funded by Team In Training and LLS- the fundraising efforts of people like yours truly, with YOUR help. This is where your donations go. For real.

Click here to access my fundraising site.

Panoramic view of Calaveras Road and Reservoir in the summer (it's much greener now)

My teammates had the good fortune to see an eaglet during the ride.

After climbing The Wall, looking deceptively happy

(about 100 yards back was a whole other picture)

Today was a Good Day

Fairfax Buddy Ride. Today marked what was actually the first true training ride of my cycling season. It was the first ride I've had in a while where I actually felt good... and dare I say a little strong. This was by no means a tough ride- an out and back from Sausalito to Fairfax, at a moderate pace. 

But I have had the most evil of cold viruses for about one month. It's pretty much out of my system at this point, but what a toll illness can take on your endurance! Last week, by comparison, I had a 20 mile ride in Danville, and I was so weak I thought I was going to throw up about halfway through. The only reason I made it back was because the last 7 miles were mostly downhill.

Today was a perfect combination of a favorite route, fair weather, and renewed health. Photos to document the day (yes there was riding involved, too):

Fairfax Coffee Roastery

Salsalito Taco Shop

Pax Bicicletta?

The other day I saw something that made me smile: It was a guy on a really slick road bike, completely kitted out in bright, logo-covered lycra... with a DIY plastic bottle fender duct-taped to his bike.

For most roadies this is nothing short of a travesty. I often often see roadies with no fenders and lycra shorts, riding in rainy weather. I don't have fenders on my road bike either, but I always cover my legs in foul weather and my knees in temps below 70 degrees.

I also sometimes ride with a CamelBak, but I learned that roadies aren't supposed to do this- they just use bottles. I still choose to ride with a CamelBak on some long rides, or if it's really hot, because I know I'll drink more, and I'd rather risk looking geeky than be dehydrated. I encourage newer cyclists to use one if they aren't comfortable grabbing for their water bottles.

So why is a CamelBak geeky anyway? I've learned a lot of things can be geeky while you're on a road bike (according to the racer wannabes). The term for said geekiness is "Fred." You're a Fred if you have a lot of utilitarian gadgets on your bike, like racks, fenders, mirrors, etc. (though IMO the coolest thing I've seen is on the bike of a cyclist I really respect- a cycling glove attached to his top tube and used to hold energy bars!) I guess it must take away from that cool racing look, and of course adds too much weight. You're also a Fred if you still have that little plastic visor attached to the front of your bike helmet. It's okay for mountain bikers, but not roadies!

I don't get it. I don't pay much attention to what someone is wearing or has attached to his or her bike, unless it's something I might want myself. The things I do notice are if someone is riding like an a-hole and passing dangerously, blowing through stops, or riding on my wheel without letting me know.

My husband used to live next door to a bike messenger. One day he was heading off to work on his early 80's Peugeot road bike, wearing regular clothes and shoes. His neighbor saw him and said, "Dude, you look like a commuter."

So looking like a bike commuter is a bad thing? I thought that any cyclist would be happy to see other people on bikes? I know that each cycling culture has it's own style and ways, but I try to embrace anybody on a bike. When I'm out on the road, I give a wave or a head nod, and usually get one in return, but every now and then I get the grim stare (as a side note, my husband says that when he's on his motorcycle, the Harley guys are the only ones who never wave back).

With bike culture on the rise, I'd like to think we're all doing this unified thing, but sadly, the divisions are out there.

You might be a Fred, and so what?

photo from http://www.sdrecyclers.org/

Let's Try Again

From a recent AP article:

A new study has found that young people are losing interest in long-form blogging, as their communication habits have become increasingly brief, and mobile. Tech experts say it doesn't mean blogging is going away. Rather, it's gone the way of the telephone and e-mail — still useful, just not sexy. (MARTHA IRVINE, AP National Writer Martha Irvine, Ap National Writer – Wed Feb 3)

Indeed. With Facebook and the ease of microblogging status updates, it's been admittedly tough to keep up with either of my blogs. There are other detracting factors, such as work, a lack of inspiration, and general busyness.

But I'm hoping to get back on the wagon, and have started with a relaunch of my cycling blog. Formerly called Cherylismo!, I abandoned that cycling lingo play on my own name, as I felt it didn't really have any meaning, and threatened to just sound like an inside joke.

I think my new blog says exactly what it means, and I've even gussied up the color scheme- I think it's very "me" without having to shout my name.

Now, to write...