Holy Buckets
Yes, Derek, Holy Buckets. It's an appropriate title for the past few days. If anyone wants to tell me where I got that expression, I'd appreciate it. I've been saying it a lot lately, and finally got called on it Friday night. But, I must say, it was totally appropriate. Friday was the day I started to feel like myself again, which was nice. After work, I was scheduled to volunteer at the downtown Minneapolis criterium of the Nature Valley Grand Prix. So I hopped on my bike and started to head that way. Just as I reached the U of M campus it started to rain a bit. I ducked into the Washington Ave walking tunnel dealie, that was convenient, and by the time I got to the other side there were hailstones the size of golfballs beating down and rain driving down in sheets. Literally. Holy Buckets. The streets were flooding and all, but it let up in about 20 minutes and I continued downtown. Bella Paula and I were quickly taught how to be course marshalls and stationed on corner 5. The women's race happened without too much ado -- the course was wet, but it was mostly OK. Then the men started racing just as a huge ole bunch of storm clouds descended on the city, thundering and lightening all around us. It also started pouring, and visibility was slim to none. Just 18 minutes into the race, the officials called it. Even then was too late for some -- there quite a few crashes on the slippery course. Our course marshall work was done, so Paula and I beelined for the nearest casual bar/restaurant, where we brought in our own blanket (we were soaked to the bone) drank wine, and ate some yummy food.
Saturday was the Mankato road race. I went down with Margot to help support the Bellas (Kele, Jane, and Jen) and Silver Cycling. We gave water to thirsty cyclists at the two feed zones during the almost 90 mile road race. You'd be far better off reading something else if you're looking to hear who won, or how the race went or things like that, cause all I saw was a bunch of chaos rushing past me as I jumped up and down yelling "Bella Bella Bella!" while holding out a bottle. The most exciting part was probably the second feed zone when the men came through. Margot and I were trying to make sure Aric got a feed, so as soon as I saw Aric, I yelled his name, but then he was gone. Shit. And then, I hear, "KARLA KARLA KARLA KARLA KARLA KARLA." I spun around and started running as fast as I could with the racers, holding out a waterbottle. I really didn't know what was going on, but I knew someone was yelling my name and there was no way they weren't going to get that bottle. Next thing I knew it this long arm (belonging to Pete Hanna) snaked out of the pelaton and snatched the bottle. Nice. Probably my most spectacular feed.
After the race, Margot and I rode home from La Sueuer (or something like that). We drilled it for a while, and then it started to pour on us (Holy Buckets!). We pulled into some small Minnesota village where there were some people standing under a tent having a graduation party, so we went and hung out with them for a while until the rain let up. They even offered us a chance at their buffet and gave us some plastic baggies for our cell phones -- rural Minnesota folks are the best. The rain let up a bit and we continued on into Eden Prairie, where we somehow managed to get ourselves onto a legit freeway. We exited ASAP and finally managed to get home alive.
Sunday was the last day of NVGP, the Stillwater Crit. I headed over to the Birchwood Cafe to meet up with a bunch of Bettys, Bellas, and other fellas, and we all started off for Stillwater. It was a great ride out -- there were probably about 40 people total. Towards the end people started throwing the hammer down and it turned into a quasi-race, which was really fun. We rolled into Stillwater, and as we turned towards the race course, I suddenly felt like my rear derailleur was in my spokes. It was! Shitbox! No one has yet been able to figure out exactly how that happened, because I wasn't anywhere near my 25 or 23 cog when it occurred, but the derailleur was definitely snapped in half and useless. At least it happened in Stillwater! I headed over to the neutral support to see if they might have a spare for me, but no dice. They had a bunch of wheels and bikes, but no extra derailleurs.
So I hung out and watched the race -- holy buckets, it looked hard. Read about it on Cycling News or something, I can't do it justice. So after the race was over, I still had the problem of my bike -- I really wanted to ride home! So I headed back to the OnSupport tent to see if somehow they had come into possession of a spare derailleur. Of course they hadn't, but Sean (the owner of OnSupport and an amazingly great person) offered me one of the neutral bikes to ride home. Excellent! It was even a Jav, just like mine, except without the pink bartape and saddle. And this one had Campy. I had a good ride home and decided that I'm definitely a Shimano girl.
Coming up this weekend is the state road race -- that should be fun!
Saturday was the Mankato road race. I went down with Margot to help support the Bellas (Kele, Jane, and Jen) and Silver Cycling. We gave water to thirsty cyclists at the two feed zones during the almost 90 mile road race. You'd be far better off reading something else if you're looking to hear who won, or how the race went or things like that, cause all I saw was a bunch of chaos rushing past me as I jumped up and down yelling "Bella Bella Bella!" while holding out a bottle. The most exciting part was probably the second feed zone when the men came through. Margot and I were trying to make sure Aric got a feed, so as soon as I saw Aric, I yelled his name, but then he was gone. Shit. And then, I hear, "KARLA KARLA KARLA KARLA KARLA KARLA." I spun around and started running as fast as I could with the racers, holding out a waterbottle. I really didn't know what was going on, but I knew someone was yelling my name and there was no way they weren't going to get that bottle. Next thing I knew it this long arm (belonging to Pete Hanna) snaked out of the pelaton and snatched the bottle. Nice. Probably my most spectacular feed.
After the race, Margot and I rode home from La Sueuer (or something like that). We drilled it for a while, and then it started to pour on us (Holy Buckets!). We pulled into some small Minnesota village where there were some people standing under a tent having a graduation party, so we went and hung out with them for a while until the rain let up. They even offered us a chance at their buffet and gave us some plastic baggies for our cell phones -- rural Minnesota folks are the best. The rain let up a bit and we continued on into Eden Prairie, where we somehow managed to get ourselves onto a legit freeway. We exited ASAP and finally managed to get home alive.
Sunday was the last day of NVGP, the Stillwater Crit. I headed over to the Birchwood Cafe to meet up with a bunch of Bettys, Bellas, and other fellas, and we all started off for Stillwater. It was a great ride out -- there were probably about 40 people total. Towards the end people started throwing the hammer down and it turned into a quasi-race, which was really fun. We rolled into Stillwater, and as we turned towards the race course, I suddenly felt like my rear derailleur was in my spokes. It was! Shitbox! No one has yet been able to figure out exactly how that happened, because I wasn't anywhere near my 25 or 23 cog when it occurred, but the derailleur was definitely snapped in half and useless. At least it happened in Stillwater! I headed over to the neutral support to see if they might have a spare for me, but no dice. They had a bunch of wheels and bikes, but no extra derailleurs.
So I hung out and watched the race -- holy buckets, it looked hard. Read about it on Cycling News or something, I can't do it justice. So after the race was over, I still had the problem of my bike -- I really wanted to ride home! So I headed back to the OnSupport tent to see if somehow they had come into possession of a spare derailleur. Of course they hadn't, but Sean (the owner of OnSupport and an amazingly great person) offered me one of the neutral bikes to ride home. Excellent! It was even a Jav, just like mine, except without the pink bartape and saddle. And this one had Campy. I had a good ride home and decided that I'm definitely a Shimano girl.
Coming up this weekend is the state road race -- that should be fun!
posted by karla at 9:59 PM
2 Comments:
haha - i think it's funny that you have picked up a new saying - i def have gotten some overused lines from you in the past - most notably - 'not gonna lie', which, morphed from usual suspect to usual suspect into true story and then into it's true which is the current go-to. haha.
i love us. =)
The only reference I have, and for Lame-o reasons better not mentioned, is a quote from the Sandra Bullock movie "While You Were Sleeping" where her erstwhile finance's hospital roomate says "Holy Buckets, Peter!" after meeting Peter's "legit" (quite a witch) fiance face to face.
Sorry - not much help there.
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