Finding the fun again

All I do is sound pathetic and like a whiner. There is no way I would have been able to help someone with this --- and if it weren't happening to me, there would be no way I could begin to understand.

Saturday, I went out to ride again. Just keep getting back out there, Carole.
This ride was a nightmare. Within the first 30 min I was heading to Left Hand Cyn (along Hwy 36) and I wasn't prepared for the gusty wind. One gust slid me into the gravel - right off the road - and though I did NOT crash, it scared the crap out of me in my already nervous state. I was out of control and slid. I was scared shitless. I had to dismount the bike to settle down. 5 min later I got back on but turned around to ride more "in town" where not as windy as 36. But I was never able to calm down. I was not able to get comfortable with speeds high enough to get any sort of quality ride going. Every downhill was a death grip.
Once in a while there was a long stretch of flat road where I got things going - so there'd be 2min-5min sections of good riding, but not many.

I mostly just rode and tried to just get comfortable again being out there and riding on rollers. I never went aero - scared me to death. I think the rollers here, people going by me and startling me, just utterly freaked me out.

I am trying to be positive and also patient with myself.......this was my 2nd ride outside in Boulder on a road bike (tri bike) since the latest crash. I have to believe it will get better and I know I need to keep getting out there. I will keep trying, and keep being as positive as I can be. But this really is a nightmare.

I got home from ride on Saturday and was hopelessly discouraged. I still ran off the bike for about 20 min but tears were in my eyes the whole time - so I wouldn't exactly call this day a quality workout. I just don't know how I will ever be comfortable enough to "RACE" again. I am trying and I realize my desire to race is up to me. No one is forcing me to do it.

The last portion of the ride, as I was nearing home, I kept thinking to myself, "This isn't FUN anymore. Why am I putting myself through this? I don't HAVE to do this!" I would then yell back at myself, frustratingly, reminding myself this is among my first rides back and I need to be patient and give Carole a break.

I just don't want to QUIT. That's what it would be. But I also don't want to suffer anymore. I don't want to be in hospitals anymore. I don't want broken bones and a broken spirit and a broken heart. Can't I please have more than this? Just for a while - just for a short, tiny while? Can't I just be happy. Haven't I earned this and don't I deserve it? Haven't I paid more than my share of dues?

I've had a couple things happen recently on a personal level that have left me truly questioning my ability/role/value (?) as an athlete. My spirit has been crushed, and I know that's not helping. Now I don't really know WHAT to do. I have always thought if you are not happy doing something then why do it? But this is somehow bigger than that. This is about conquering, this is about not giving up. At this point it really isn't about being "happy". Or is it? Should it be? I have no idea. I feel utterly lost. I do know there are a list of things I hold very close to my heart, that I am SO PROUD I DID, that I never would have done had my goal in the moment been to "be happy".

I just feel like this obstacle in front of me is bigger than I can handle. So does that mean give up or keep going? Both options are wrong - and also right.
I've never dealt with something like this before where the outcome of things has been PHYSICAL TRAUMA. It changes the perspective.

So............my ride Saturday was just...I don't know what it was. Or what matters.
I'm trying. More than anyone could possibly imagine I am trying.

The Ass Of An Athlete

You probably thought this post would be about something much more fun given the title. I am sneaky to suck you in like that. But keep reading - you'll get to the ass part.

I have a great quote by Elenor Roosevelt that I keep on my bathroom mirror. It confronts me each day. And I stop in my tracks to read it, each day, as it always hits me like it's the first time I am ever hearing the words. "You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself. "I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along."

A couple days ago I got on the bike (my "skinny tires bike" - not my cruiser bike I had been on with my "baby steps to get back out there") for the first time in Boulder since the August crash. As if the 2007 crash wasn't bad enough, this latest one I fear has sealed the coffin. I've been enduring some trainer rides of late, but not because it's cold, because I'm scared out of my mind to ride again. And that, dear friends, is why I must. Bike riding has become a near phobia now; I can't have that. The only way to conquer something is to stay with it, again and again. I am not there yet....I am most definitely flinching as fear stares me down...but as of now I will keep trying to get back in the battle.

Right now my only objective is to try to enjoy riding again. Well, no, my true objective is to NOT CRASH. But I have no thought whatsoever about pace or power or how horribly out of shape I am. Right now my greatest accomplishment is simply pedaling, steering, avoiding potholes, and trying to find slight relaxation amid any speed faster than 15mph. Baby steps.

Zeiger offers to start my ride with me on this day. She knows I am scared shitless. I appreciated the support just to be there with me for a short time before she needed to go do her own training day and not be slowed by me. I easy pedaled the 4 miles to her house, just trying to fricking RELAX. I am completely squirrely. "Man, these tires feel THIN", I say to myself. I am jumpy and nervous. The slightest noise startles me and my heart rate skyrockets. Good grief. I keep probing myself to relax, and keep the self encouragement streaming nonstop: "You're doing great, Carole. Just settle in. Relax." People have no idea how lucky they are just to get on their bikes and take off, with no hint of fear. I used to be that person. I am envious of her now.

I scoop up JZ and we chat side-by-side for a few minutes as we pedal our way towards Hwy-36. I am jabbering like a runaway train, total motormouth. JZ saw right through that with the keen eye of a friend who knows me, and she cut me off.

JZ: "The first thing you need to do is relax. Your shoulders are so tense."

Carole: "EVERYTHING is tense."

JZ: "Well relax your shoulders for now."

I took a deep breath. Inhale relaxation. Exhale fear.

JZ: "You look good, Carole. You'll be fine".

We rode side by side for a couple miles, chatting, until our typical pattern happens: I can't hold her easy pace without blowing so I drop back and sit on her wheel. I took the moment in and smiled at the nostalgia...me staring at JZ's ass...I've spent a lot of hours doing that in years gone by. Thank God she has a great ass (she does, actually. Hate her!).

Carole: "Well this is a familiar sight.", I scream up to her.

JZ: "What is?"

Carole: "Your ass!"

She looks back and laughs.

I lasted a few minutes on her wheel before the pace was too hard for me and I watched her start to put more and more distance between us. It was like a ship sailing off into the distance. I didn't care at all - I was happy (or tried to be) just to be out on the road again. Baby steps.

While on her wheel my mind went back to a great JZ story. It's pretty funny so thought I'd throw it for you to read.
Back in.........oh, Summer of 2006 (?), I was visiting Boulder and doing a ride with Joanna. She was pulling me all around neighboring towns and it was a great ride. We were a couple hours into the ride and came to a turn. We made the left and a guy SHOT OUT LIKE A CANNON from the back of us. He'd been sitting on our wheel for who knows how long, sucking the draft, and then like a total asshole, just steamrolled by us in the moment he was freshest and could assert dominance. I am a pretty docile rider, minus getting beer bottles thrown at me from a car not much riles me up, but even I thought that was assholish.

"What the F***!", JZ screamed out.

I saw her body language change. I knew what was about to happen.

JZ: "HANG ON!!", she yelled back to me.

Oh God. Please no. I'm too tired for this.

Within milliseconds JZ launched the vicious attack after the dude. Mach 5. I pushed with everything in me, heart beating out of my chest, in utter agony to stay with her as we began reeling him in. I cannot begin to describe the pain.

Carole: "This isn't Sydney!!!!", I screamed up to her at one point, referencing her Olympic debut in 2000.
She ignored me and maintained relentless attack.
Finally we were on him, JZ just looked at him as we rolled by..... my intention was to give him the finger but I was in too much pain to do anything. (ha!)
He turned a different direction and our locomotive engine finally slowed. I was completely blown.

JZ: "Asshole..."

Carole: "Was that ENTIRELY necessary???!!!" ......I angrily yelled at her from my imploded body, vomit literally sliding down my jersey. (I am laughing now remembering that. Homegirl made me throw up with the chase. Funny.)

JZ: "Yes, that asshole!..."

:) Good times. Moral of the story, don't pull that crap with Joanna. More to the point, if you're going to attempt to prove you're actually the man out on the road (which, by the way, be prepared to be proven wrong on that), please make sure I am not riding with her. It took me 3 days to recover from that attack and my own coach was pissed. :)

Ok, back to 3 days ago.
Things got a little better as time went on, but they were never great. Still, I was pleased I was staying out there, staying courageous.

At mid-point I ran into JZ who made a detour to loop back and check on me. (What a good friend she is!)

JZ: "How ya doing?"

Carole: "Scared. But getting a little better. Each time will be better".

I rode for a little over 2 hours and when I pulled back into my condo, felt victorious.

I have such a long road ahead of me. I am quite certain I will never be the cyclist I once was....I cannot imagine I will ever bomb down a hill or push a descent with intention like I once did. I think that woman is probably gone forever. But I'm going to keep trying........I'm going to keep trying to conquer the fear of riding and in just doing that - I hope I can be a good example for people.

Giving up, even when you're scared - ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU'RE SCARED - is never an option.
Overcoming obstacles is where self respect reigns......

((you can do this, carole....))

The freight train to menopause... Part II

So I went in for a normal checkup with my doctor. That was his expectation. I knew there'd be more.

Carole: "So I really need something for all of this."

Doc: "All of what?"

Carole: "These raging, maniacal hormones. They're running amok, Doc. Look at this! (I point to my acne ridden face.) Last week I got in a fight with an avocado that wasn't ripe enough for my craving. I'm losin' it!"

Doc: He laughs, but then in his ever-prescient tone, "Carole, this is all normal. It's just the process."

"It" is a reference to menopause.
Lovely.

I strolled out of there with my prescriptions in hand and waved goodbye to the nurse who has "befriended" me. That's in quotations because let's be honest, we're not really friends. We just share laughs about how every time I come in and she asks me when my last menstrual cycle cycled on through, I respond with "three weeks ago." After she got that same answer seven weeks in a row she told me she knew exactly what my problem was - I was packed FULL of shit.

No, actually, I'm packed full of wholly unpredictable hormones firing at will, with a little useless trivia thrown in for fun. (The Golden Girls premiered in 1985! The heaviest element is Uranium!)

The best thing to come out of all of this? I now know what it's like to be a fifteen-year-old boy. Uncontrollable hormones that have caustic outcomes. Thanks to this perimenopause onset I experience the following:

1) Misplaced rage and an increased combative nature. Case in point: The aforementioned avocado story. We seriously got into a fight. An avocado and me. I yelled at it. ? Then, with a coolness that can only come with being a victor of war - I ate it, jabbing the sucker with my fork to ensure it knew I'd won. (Sybil?)

2) Men are strangely attractive, even when they're not. I think that actually makes me a homosexual teenage boy if we stick with the analogy from above. Anyhoo, it's not that I don't find men attractive in an excessive hormone-free world, it's just that I didn't appreciate the sheer number of hot y chromosomes strutting around. My usual standards were thrown out the window (too short, too tall, too stupid and listens to tween pop on his ipod) and suddenly everyone, in the words of Marlon Brando, coulda been a contender.

3) "Are you going to eat that?" has become my mantra. I have never been so hungry, never ever, not even when I managed to do things like exercise or let's be honest, extend any sort of physical effort whatsoever.

4) And.....ahhh.... Teenage Acne. Oh yes. The malfunction at Skin and Pore Streets was just a taste of what was to come. And apparently is still coming. It's awesome and very teenagery. So if we follow that out to its logical conclusion, that means the acne actually makes me look YOUNGER. I have found the secret to eternal youth. Spread the word.

So back to the drugstore I went for some sort of zit cream.
No way I am using that cream-turned-disaster from the last episode. You remember: Holy balls my face is on fire. ? yea, that one.
http://carolesharpless.blogspot.com/2010/12/mountain-and-molehill.html

So tonight I went to the drugstore because my head was about to explode, right behind my left eyeball, throbbing away like someone was pinging it with a ball peen hammer, and I’m perusing the skin care section, like you do, because I’m nearly forty fricking years old and I’ve got teenage fricking acne on my cheeks (wtf, can we not grow out of this? Am I being punished for my clear skin as a teenager? For all the times I just thought people weren’t washing their face enough? Dear Universe: I’M SORRY I WAS A TEENAGE IDIOT. PLEASE DO NOT HOLD ME RESPONSIBLE FOR MY UNEDUCATED VIEWS OF THE ACNE-RIDDEN.)

So I’m looking around and I notice this thing on the top shelf, mainly because the price has three numbers in it and I think, 'Holy Cupcake, what kind of skin care regimen has three numbers before the decimal sign comes in to play'? And it’s this device thingamuwatchit and it zaps the zits with it’s hot hot heat and I WANT IT.

I looked at the reviews on Amazon and everyone’s all, “love it!” and “can’t get enough!” and “would make out with it if I could!” And I’m thinking, you know, I just might buy this. This is self-esteem in a mechanical device! Plus, it’s a gadget, and I can get away with buying stupid crap because THAT’S WHAT I DO. If not for my uncontrollable quirks (hello, I’m looking at you, Miss Jane Fonda workout strippercize VHS video set) I would be just a regular human with the rather obvious and odious problem of not cleaning out my vehicle enough.

It's been quite a day...

Best Quality

You know I am all about the thought-provoking posts.

A couple days ago my good buddy Brian asked me what my best quality was. I shot back an answer that seemed reasonable. He shook his head and said, “No. I want you to think about this. I want you to take a few hours, if not the whole day. Really think about it. Then tell me. I think you’ll be surprised how refined your answer becomes, and the self awareness you’ll call upon to get there.”

I’m always up for a good mental challenge. Especially something about myself – my favorite subject. (sarcasm)

As usual, Brian was insightful. As I considered my answer more thoughtfully, it indeed became more refined, more sophisticated. Probably more accurate too.
I challenge you to do the same thing. Think about what your best quality is. REALLY think about it over a series of accumulative hours. A full day even better. Then come back here and post it if you’d like (I always love to hear about people’s strengths) – but more importantly, post it someplace for yourself to see.
After I wrote down my best quality, I felt a strange sense of self pride in my answer. I believe this is accurate, and I like this quality about myself.

My best quality: My intensity. I live (and love) front and center, out loud, and like I mean it. When push comes to shove, I’m a great one to have in your corner.

"Chosen One"

Every once in a while something comes my way which causes me to completely stop in my tracks and pay attention. I stumbled upon this clip rather randomly and have been almost obsessed with it ever since. I haven't been able to find the words to articulate why this has caused such an emotional reaction in me. Very few things render me mute. This has. That means it is profoundly moving to me.

As I watched it the first time I was unprepared for how it would take my breath away and suck me in. My eyes grew wide as it played on and everything around me faded to black; the video was all I saw and heard. My eyes soon swelled with tears as I watched in almost tunnel vision, my jaw dropped. I have no idea why I connected so profoundly to the song and the hauntingly sad video - but I couldn't look away. I was utterly drawn to the eskimo - searching, exhausted, scared, alone...
I replayed it several times, each time finding deeper meaning and metaphor, unending tears streaming down my face by the time I forced myself to shut it off.

I walked around in a bit of a daze afterward, trying to process the reasons why it had struck me so intimately and so intensely. There are many things about it that hit exactly where I live.

Sometimes I don't always understand - I just know I feel.......



"you might not be the chosen one
still you wait for your time to come
but your faith has taken a tumble
and your pride is shaken and humble

now you must know that nothing's set in stone
you must know that you're not alone...

you try not to ever hate
but can't help but overcompensate
as a smile says everything's rosy
maybe 10 percent then it's mostly, yeah

you must know nothings set in stone
you must know that you're not alone

you dream of another world
where the guy always gets the girl
but your life is not like the movies
you can turn your way to hero, should we

some time for the underdog
we should take time for the underdog

the calm ones will get it done
and it's the brave that will overcome
should you listen to your voices
when they lie and give you no more choices

frame what you're gonna do
in this phase that you're going through..."

12-Hours-Papago!

So I arrived in Phoenix. By now this city is almost feeling like a second home...the more I come here the more I seem to meet more people. It's been great.

Upon arrival, I quickly met up with one of my closest friends here, Angie Kell-Robertson. Angie was doing the 12-hour mtb race with some of her friends, and invited me to come watch / hang out.


It was so much fun! The race was 7am-7pm, so I arrived around 5p or so to enjoy the final hours in the environment. I ran into a bunch of people I already knew - and thanks to Angie (Phoenix's social dynamo), I met a bunch of her friends too.



We hung out for a few hours. Finally, when the race directors had to pretty much throw us out because they'd almost finished tearing down the site, we ventured outa there. Angie had swung back a few brews by that point and was feeling no pain, so I suggested I drive. She flung her car keys at me with a "good idea!" smile.

Carole: "Honey, have you eaten anything today?"

Angie: "Ummmmm. All I've had are Uncrustables all day!"

I leapt into action.
Carole: "Good Lord, girl. We're feeding you - STAT!"

I pushed the pedal a little heavy :) and got us to a restaurant where she inhaled some garlic pizza...and I gnawed on a slice too. (We weren't smooching that night so who cares?) While we were there she kept showing me texts that kept coming in to her phone -- her friends from the race were all telling her how much they liked me and were inviting me to the group dinners, etc., while I am in town. That was so sweet and really made me smile!

It's such a welcoming community here.
Thanks so much to Angie for making such efforts to introduce me to people here so I get even more dialed in. I am NOT moving, though! :) :)

Interview

WOW.

How flattering that Joel Strickland, with his popular, award-winning blog, felt I was worthy of his popular "interview" submission. He really must be struggling to get folks to respond to his request! : )

The last interview I did was several years ago for Playboy. It was entitled: "The Top 5 Reasons You'd Get Turned Down To Pose" ....















Believe me, there are MORE than 5 reasons why Playboy would never want my nakedness on any sort of spread. SCARY..... and even - eugh!

Thanks, Joel.
Truly, I am honored.

http://joelpstrickland.blogspot.com/2011/01/ten-questions-withprofessional.html

Asking The Right Questions...

A few weeks ago, a good friend of mine and her fiancé, both Catholic, took part in the church’s traditional marriage preparation course called Pre-Cana.

What exactly is Pre-Cana?

I’m glad you asked! As a born and raised Catholic girl (attending an all-girl Catholic high school, no less - explains a lot, huh?) I can totally dial you in to this splendor. Fasten your seat belt.



Dating back to simpler times, when God actually roamed the earth and all arguments about why we are here(?) and what it all means(?) were settled by going straight to the source – though of course no one ever thought to write it down, instead opting for stories about mustard seeds and fig trees (great choice there, guys) – Pre-Cana is derived from the Biblical story of The Marriage at Cana. According to the gospel of John, one of the more reliable Evangelists, Jesus performed his first miracle, turning water into wine, thus bequeathing his proverbial “nod of approval” on all earthly celebrations of the sacrament of marriage.


One can assume that in its early form, Pre-Cana involved things like harsh admonishments, threats of damnation, the trading of cattle and A LOT of kneeling. These days, Pre-Cana is a catered weekend conference, usually held in the church, where couples engaged to be married pay anywhere from $25 to $100 per person (depending on the quality of the food and the degree to which you hope God will approve your union) to be interviewed and counseled by a priest concerning their impending marriage. The priest will discuss things like kids, money, sex and what your partner may expect of you. Also, the priest will encourage the couple to ask each other questions they may never have thought to ask before, such as the following:

Have you ever been arrested? (None of your business.)
How much debt do you owe? (None of your business.)
Have you been married before? (No.)
Have you ever been committed to an institution? (No.)
Do you have a drug problem? (None of your business.)

These things are, in my opinion, all great things to know. But here’s the thing: If I am getting married, do I really need a special ceremony to find out if my boyfriend has a drug problem? Shouldn’t that be something we have already shared during our three beautiful weeks together? And if it isn’t, is church really the right time?

Me: “Do you have a drug problem?”

Him: “Well I don’t think it’s really a problem.”

Priest: “Go on. God will still love you and help you through.”

Him: “Sometimes I have sex for cocaine.”

Priest: “Actually, God doesn’t forgive that one. Sorry.”

The way I see it, if you’re going to go through all the trouble of making people talk to each other, why not at least ask the right questions? I mean, who cares how many kids she wants? Like money, she’ll have as much as he gives her, and she’ll be happy with that. I have much more important things I want to know about my future husband, and you should too.

Herewith, the five things you should ask any spouse-to-be. I’ve even broken them down by category:

EXPECTATIONS
Would you take a bullet for me?

MONEY
If we were offered the same deal as in the movie Indecent Proposal, would we take it?

LIFESTYLE
List the following things in order, from most important to least: college hoops (UNC!), the beach, margaritas, traveling, pizza, family, integrity, health

SEX
Would you still love me if I got fat? lost an arm? went blind?

KIDS
Cool or not cool: Raising a child so that they are perfectly normal, except they lick the palm of their hand before shaking hands with someone?

Correct answers below!
____________________________________

EXPECTATIONS – Yes (said with no hesitation)
MONEY – No
LIFESTYLE – Order is correct
SEX – Trick question. Sex has nothing to do with love.
KIDS – Very cool.