(I'm having trouble starting these blog posts lately. I mean real trouble. Trouble akin to certain focus problems that certain Yahoos might have which were inherited by a certain rambling 'n rabid mom. So it seems that starting a post with "so" is necessary for a while.)
Last Monday, I had promised some posts about all of the cool stuff that's been happening around here. On Tuesday, I created drafts of all of these happenings. Six drafts to be exact. Figured this was a good start – like the first step on a giant staircase. On Wednesday, I loaded the laptop with goals to produce. To my horror, however, I discovered that the photos needed to adequately complete these posts were saved on my little point 'n shoot, and that little point 'n shoot is nowhere.
I became a touch frantic. I tore the house apart. I blamed any and everyone (not really, I'm disturbingly calm about these things lately.) Then I remembered that we had a little field trip with The Winder on Friday and I had imposed storage of said point 'n shoot in a pocket of her stroller. Could it be there? I think it could!
Long, boring story, long: I sent a text to The Winder, "IS MY CAMERA IN YOUR STROLLER 'CAUSE I NEED IT, LIKE, NOW, YOU STOLE IT YOU TRAMP!" She replied with some lame excuse about being camping and didn't know. Then I stewed over why the hell she didn't have the dang stroller with her on her camping trip, 'cause she needed to ease my worries and pronto. I also stewed over the fact that she had mobile coverage. If she had mobile coverage, where the hell was she camping? She's not truly camping if she has coverage. Just sayin'.
The Winder phoned on Thursday evening to report that the camera is in the pocket of the stroller that she didn't take "camping." I will retrieve the camera today or on the morrow. Worries have been eased.
Without pictures, my only option at this point is to talk about Strava. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, has done a Strava post. Prolly even CJane, but I don't read her blog so maybe someone could tell me if she has a Strava post, and if not, maybe someone could tell her she needs to get on the blogger bandwagon and fashion a Strava Post.
Here's the typical Strava Post, in two and more words: Strava is Evil! Turns every ride into a race!
My Strava post is different, so you might want to pay attention.
I've had a significant injury in the achilles tendon. This has been problematic for the running (and the rest of my life and anyone who lives with me.) I'm on a successful mending and rehab schedule now – even made it 8 miles last Saturday. In the process, it has become clear that the Rabid needs some cross training, so Spouse and I acquired some road bikes. Those bikes were acquired the actual day that stinky boot came off.
Now, being as I have a road bike, and being as I live in American Fork, the first mountain to pedal (in the granny gear and weaving side-to-side) is the American Fork Canyon or Alpine Loop. And, after a few weeks – holy toledo! – I was able to do so (in the granny gear and weaving side-to-side.)
I've ridden the American Fork side of the Alpine Loop a hand full of times now. Surprisingly, I've managed to remove four whole minutes from my time. (From the climb, that is. The descent is a whole 'nother story and I ain't paying attention to that just yet.)
All the neighbors and all the biker bloggers are doing this Strava thing. Should I do this Strava thing too? At first it was a "nah" because I was having fun with the recreational granny gear 'n weaving side-to-side thing. Didn't want to ruin it by trying to be good at it. I've also had my butt kicked on a daily basis (figuratively and physically) for about four months now. Discouragement abounds. Why add to it by comparing myself to everyone else?
Here's where things changed: Fatty, aka "Fat Cyclist," published a little Strava ditty about his lovely wife Lisa, aka "The Hammer." To say "The Hammer" is awesome would be trite and undeservedly subdued, so I'll just say she's a monumental human being and a monumental athlete. I quite like her. I've known The Hammer for a few years, and as you might recall, she was on my Wasatch Back Team last year.
In this aforementioned Strava ditty on The Hammer, Fatty proceeded to demonstrate The Hammer's new association with Strava, and how after one meager upload, she became Queen of the Mountain, on like, everything.
After reading the post, I decided that maybe I should have a Strava account so that I can follow The Hammer. Then it occurred to me that I HAVE YET TO MARK MY "RABID RUNNER" TERRITORY ON STRAVA! Eee gads, this could be bad! What if some other rabid runner has picked the "rabid runner" accounting? To my relief, "rabid runner" was still available. Holy smokes that was close.
(I do that, you know. I go around creating various rabidrunner accounts so that no one else will. I was about to unleash a certain dog-and-fire hydrant metaphor that started with "p," but decided against it.)
One might think that viewing The Hammer's Strava successes might spook one into intimidation. On the contrary! The Hammer is one of the most inspiring and uplifting of folks I know. Does she tromp about tooting an "I am triumphant" horn? Not at all. I've yet to see her without a welcoming smile and a air of encouragement.
Here's a photo Spouse sent me when I was in Los Angeles. He ran into The Hammer during their 100 miles of nowhere thing, which insanely included doing the loop FIVE TIMES! She nabbed him to say hi and he took a photo. Look at that welcoming smile!
Now that we've gone over my love for The Hammer, let's talk about my Strava experience. After finishing my bike ride on Wednesday morning, I went about the morning business with the Yahoos. While Yahoo #2 was practicing the piano, and I was there prodding with hot poker, I decided to turn on the GPS and do the upload.
Strava is slick. You plug the GPS into the USB thingee, turn it on, login to your account, and upload. And, get this – it automagically takes the GPS mappings of your stuff and assigns it to segments! It's magic. I didn't need to manually assign my rides and runs to anything.
After the upload, and in between page 78 of theory and Allegretto, I received notification that I was QOM (Queen of the Mountain) of some Lone Peak Parkway segment. Imagine my surprise. Now image my horror. That's not right! Something is wrong!
My Lone Peak Parkway time had trumped the fasted king (or dude.) What the?! That ain't right. It was then that I realized that I had LEFT THE DUMB GPS ON WHILE DRIVING IN THE CAR!
Oh the horror. That is cheating! Someone will find me! Remember when I panicked over the little point 'n shoot left with The Winder? Times that by a million. I was convinced I was busted. Could even hear the Strava Gestapos at my door, ready to put me in jail for being a fraud.
"Crap!" I said, along with some other words that forced Yahoo #2 to stop his piano practice and stare. "How the hell do I change it?!"
Yahoo #2 said he didn't know. After ten long and arduous minutes of fuss 'n figit, I figured out how to crop that particular ride so as it doesn't include the cheating in the car.
Good grief. Technology is awesome, isn't it?