Putting the super in Superweek

Posted on by Lindsay
[caption id="attachment_6196" align="alignnone" width="600"] I needed a little break during the race.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_6207" align="alignnone" width="600"] Michelle won bourbon bingo at dinner after the Gastown Grand Prix and earned a round of six shots for our table.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_6201" align="alignnone" width="600"] These guys keep the pit sexy.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_6202" align="alignnone" width="600"] Hanging out at team base before the Giro di Burnaby.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_6203" align="alignnone" width="600"] Jessy was envious of my bloody arm, so she got one of her own.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_6208" align="alignnone" width="600"] Out for another morning spin with the team. We paint with ALL the colors of the wind.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_6206" align="alignnone" width="600"] The team at a pre-crit coffee stop.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_6211" align="alignnone" width="600"] It seemed like a fun idea to let my teammate cut my hair before the White Rock crit. Yes, we are standing in front of a salon.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_6200" align="alignnone" width="600"] One final evening at our lovely host house.[/caption] ...continue reading.

O Canada!

Posted on by Lindsay
[caption id="attachment_6178" align="alignnone" width="600"] One of the guys at the Polka Dot Jersey Bike Shop in Seattle was kind enough to lend me his bike for a few hours. It was great, but not nearly as cool as the helmet from 1992 I borrowed from our host's garage.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_6182" align="alignnone" width="600"] I promised not to make jokes when it came time to cross the border, but when the border patrol officer asked why Zanna and I weren't staying together, "She snores," slipped out before I could filter. He was not amused.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_6183" align="alignnone" width="600"] New kit, new bike, new van, same fun. Or as Kingery captioned this photo, "Look...a butterfly!"[/caption] [caption id="attachment_6181" align="alignnone" width="600"] Oh right, I'm up here in Canada to race. Look! Racing![/caption] [caption id="attachment_6185" align="alignnone" width="600"] This photo brought to you in part by every color ever. I am crazy in love with these neon orange Vittoria ...continue reading.

Fail to Win

Posted on by Lindsay
I raced Philly. We packed Kobe into the car to join us for the trip, I showed up and only cried three times, and then I raced. It was somewhat surreal; my first World Cup and I couldn't even engage enough to feel anxious. At one point during the race, Lauren Hall made a comment about how I wasn't smiling and so I replied, "my dog died," and started to cry. She then pointed out the moto with the camera that was filming us. Good times. Before the race started, I noticed my teammate had "FAIL" written on her bars. That seemed like an interesting tactic and for a moment I thought about writing "YOU SUCK" on mine in solidarity, but instead asked for an explanation. "It's a reminder," she answered. "Fail to win. It reminds me to go out and give everything I've got to win." I mulled that over ...continue reading.

These are a few of my favorite things

Posted on by Lindsay
Over the past six weeks, I spent a lot of time living with a family in Yucaipa, CA that were old friends of our team director. You may know them as the family with the pig. While I fell in love with the pig instantly, it didn't take much longer to become deeply attached to the entire family. Jamie, Pete, and their three daughters started to feel like my own family and I spent so long there that I'm probably one step shy of being added to the mortgage. It was a privilege to spend so much time with them, to join in family dinners, do school and sports practice pick-ups and drop-offs, and to feel like I had found a home on the opposite side of the country. I've missed them since the moment I drove away last week and cannot wait to go back. [caption id="attachment_6095" align="alignnone" width="600"] My home away ...continue reading.

And Then Every Race Is A Win

Posted on by Lindsay
Why do you race your bike? Sometimes (okay, usually) I race for results, whether team or personal. It's easy to get caught up in the placing on the results sheet. Did I win? Podium? Beat that one chick? Was everybody, like, totally impressed? Did I get beaten by that person who I cannot believe was faster, WTF, OMG? Should I hide in the team trailer? The problem with this approach is that you can win one day and come in 48th the next. It could be a crash, a mechanical, poor preparation, crap luck, or just that your legs forgot to show up. I raced the San Dimas Stage Race a few weeks back and had a disappointing time trial, a strong road race, and a crash that broke my bike and ended my chances in the crit at one lap to go, despite feeling great and being in the right position to ...continue reading.

Tucson –> San Dimas –> Redlands

Posted on by Lindsay
[caption id="attachment_6032" align="alignnone" width="400"] On the drive from Tucson to San Dimas, Courteney realized what I meant when I said the Civic was basic.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_6033" align="alignnone" width="600"] Suzanna flew into California to join us in racing San Dimas. We had a lovely evening spin previewing the San Dimas TT course, which would have been my favorite ever if it didn't go uphill for 4.25 miles.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_6034" align="alignnone" width="600"] Courteney struggled with the idea of turning 24 last month or, as she put it, getting old. Dude, I have shirts older than that.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_6029" align="alignnone" width="600"] This is what really happens when girls go wild.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_6028" align="alignnone" width="600"] The three of us had quite a bit of fun at San Dimas. From the racing to the adventures at our Airbnb house, the laughs never stopped. Okay, so there wasn't actually much laughing during the racing. Maybe just some barfing and a few ...continue reading.