The Dirt Field

Being a professional cyclist so far is totally cray (in the words of my teammate)! I am now rich and famous, so much so that I sign $100 bills when people ask for my autograph, which is, like, constantly.

Okay, none of that is true. Few people know who I am, including people who have already met me before, and cycling appears to not have caught on to that whole “do what you love and the money will follow” concept. I still work full-time so that I can pay my bills and support my eating habits (which another teammate described by saying, “You are a food hustler! You pack away more food than anybody I know!”). But I do feel different now, because when I put on my team kit and head out to train, I can legitimately call it going to work and there is a sense of pride about riding for Team Colavita. I’m part of something bigger than myself now [insert joke about how that must be saying something considering how much I eat].

In addition to the thrill of being part of a real pro team, there a few things that are notably different this season.

For starters, Traveling Feels Like The New Normal
A few weeks ago, I was in California. Last weekend, I was in Florida. Next week I go back to California, followed by North Carolina the next week, Alabama after that, and then a week spent driving around Georgia, South Carolina, and North Carolina. And that’s all by the first week of May. It seems natural now to live out of bags and shower in strange places. I even let my butt touch strange toilet seats (a barrier I enthusiastically crashed through less than an hour into the norovirus debacle).

Speaking Of Breaking Through Barriers
Today’s workout was time trial (TT) practice intervals, which I was instructed to do with clip-on aero bars so I could get comfortable in the position before next week’s TT at the Redlands Bicycle Classic. I had managed to make it through two years of road racing without ever hunching over those bars, but the time to learn arrived today. When I get to Redlands next week and the team manager hands me a TT bike with my name on it, I can’t exactly be like, “Nah, I’m good; I’m just going to stick with this here road bike.” So I learned. It was awkward at first (and probably not timely, considering the residual effects of my recent head injury) but by the end of the ride, it felt natural and my regular bars felt overly wide and non-aerodynamic. And that’s what it means to be a pro; since it is my job to ride my bike and do it well in service of the team, there is no room for slacking or hesitating. What’s that quote? Do or do not; there is no try? Yeah, there’s actually only Do.

I’m Behaving Like A Classy Lady
When a driver does something dangerous/aggressive/stupid while I’m out training in my team kit, instead of offering them my middle finger and a choice selection of words, I smile and wave. (When I am wearing winter apparel that covers my kit and renders me anonymous, all bets are off.) I am also trying to keep my online presence, uh, family-friendly. So I don’t go past ‘shit’ on the bad-word-o-meter and I let the “that’s what SHE said” type remarks remain unsaid. Please feel free to add them in the comments.

Weather Is Confusing
I’ve spent time riding in Florida and California in the past month, and those places are warm and lovely. Here, not so much. But my body is having trouble understanding why it is not still nice outside, so I keep leaving ride while dressed like it’s going to be warm out. It’s not. Today was windy and cold and unforgiving and I want to say obscene, unkind things about March in the DC Metro area, but I can’t since I’m behaving like a lady.

People Like To Ask Me About My Equipment
And they ask by saying things like, “I’ll bet you got a sweet discount on that!” Yes, yes I did. It was 100% off. The catch is that I have to use the sponsor gear and only the sponsor gear, which works out well because truthfully, I love the new stuff. The Rudy Project helmet and glasses fit well and are very comfortable, my Castelli kits and warmers are some of the best I’ve worn, and I actually really like my Jamis. I thought nothing could come between me and my former love (that bike I accidentally bought on eBay a few years ago from Vince in the Ukraine), but while I’m still in love with that mail-order bride, my Jamis is dialed to fit and ride perfectly.

And finally, I’ve Stopped Drinking Tequila And Eating Cake Regularly
Haaaaa! Not a chance.