it's not just about having good hair

I'm going to get a lot of shit for this. But at least I'm honest. Here goes-
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Today I got a spoonful of "the world is very large and you don't matter much right now".
I did a little ‘cross race in Richmond because Sven and Nick wanted to throw down on a pleasant Sunday afternoon following Sven downing 14 Yuenglings while watching the BoSox win. I accompanied them and studied in the car.
I won my race by a few minutes, and remember hearing some guy yell “grab the top tube first!” once while I was dismounting for a barrier. I don’t pretend to have textbook dismount form, but it’s fast and it works and if you’ve ever seen the Belgians do it; anything goes. In the end, “fast” wins over “style” (and I'd like to think that I have both 90% of the time).
After the race I was riding laps for fun and stopped for a second at the car. This guy came up to me and, without even saying hello, spewed “you know you’re supposed to grab your top tube before you dismount, right?” Though I was caught off-guard, I said with an innocent smile “I’m aware of that” and didn’t say anything else. I just continued to smile at him, incredulous that he would be so rude as to assume that I needed advice and to not introduce himself or even ask me about my race.
I rode around a while and got really pissed. Doesn’t he know who I am? Does “alternate on the World Championship team” or “6th – ranked in the USA” or “top 50 in the world” mean anything to him? Hasn’t he read cyclingnews or velonews in the past few years? Has he heard of clothing for women who kick ass? I expounded on such thoughts to Sven, who told me to chill out.
And then I stopped and did just that. What the hell WAS I thinking? Why should I care? Is he required to know “who I am” to be a fan of cyclocross? No ("WHO am I anyway?"). Does he care that I used to have a high world ranking? That I am a pro? No and no. Do those rankings make me a better person? Absofuckingluutely not. Am I even that “famous” anyway? Not really. He probably had good intentions in talking to me, and simply forgot his manners by a. not introducing himself and b. offering unsolicited advice.
He even asked me later (again without pleasantries) if I was racing 'cross for the first time. Though Sven and Nick (um...pros) assured me that I looked just fine while winning.
Enter Darden:
I experienced what we call (in Leading Organizations class) an “identity abrasion”. I was letting myself feel attacked as a person and as a competent bike racer; as if my entire sense of self was under scrutiny. This was of course not the case, but nevertheless a prevalent mindset in person-to-person interactions. It’s a dangerous trap to fall into, because it leads to a destructive downward spiral of anger, barriers and defensiveness.
No thanks. Next time, I’ll find the “chill” button sooner. Humble pie is good for the soul.
But it did sting for a minute...

I remember why I’m at Darden. After two days of demoralizing Economics and Finance classes (which make Accounting seem easy), I was about ready to cry. I hadn’t utilized any sort of talent that I possessed. I was floundering and feeling completely incompetent. I am so dumb. Why did they let me in? When will they kick me out for having zero clue? It sucked.
But then I went to the Alternative Energy Forum. And got reinvigorated. After a conversation with the President of CommonWealth Biofuels, I had a fantastic discussion with a classmate on Cradle to Cradle, whose author lives in Charlottesville. There is such an amazing pool of talent out there “doing well while doing good”. I am here because I want to change the world. And a lot of other people at Darden do, too. And we will. I have no doubt. Call me overly-optimistic, call me naïve, say whatever you’d like. We are building the skills and network to GET SHIT DONE and make a huge difference. I’m sure of it.
Okay, that’s the end of my Rah Rah Darden speech for the day.
In other news, I won another bike race. That was fun. And I got to see my NC buddies (all the while rockin my sweet Ahrens ‘cross bike)!

i am giving this an "f". at this point, why don't you just get a monitor and call it a "desktop"? all that's missing is the wireless mouse.

Listen up, kids. Here is how to build the ultimate 1980s party outfit. Before I proceed, however, I must state that, for the record, I did not like the 80s all that much. Granted, I grew up in that era, but have no fondness (nostalgic or otherwise) for the fashion, music, politics, etc of that time. I have a soft spot in my heart for New Kids on The Block, but that’s about it.
The 100 Case Party at Darden is quite the event. People get to revisit their love of legwarmers and polyester. Girls perhaps use it as a reason to put a 2007 slant on some 80s fashions. I, however, used it to resurrect a look that was actually present in suburban America during the 1980s and not some glossy flashback of bad style. While a lot of my classmates cast a modern light on that godawful decade, I decided to go all-in and apply subtle nuances to my ensemble to give it authenticity second-to-none. The only other one who came close was Joey, with her awful upholstery-fabric evening dress that doubtlessly showed up at every holiday party from 1983-1991. The longevity of such a hanus style speaks volumes of the affection women had for high waistbands, pleats, puffy sleeves, and fabric that mimicked the African jungle. My outfit was some of the same, but it also chronicled a particularly painful episode in the lengthy saga of “America loves Denim”.
Yes folks, “acid-washed” is the horror of which I blog. Let’s break it down:
This dress, though $7 at Goodwill, is a priceless time capsule of the Reagan era. I couldn’t have done a better job with a Bedazzler and some puff-paint.
The ill-matching belt doesn’t synch perfectly with the darker color of the denim, which was a common pitfall of the 1980s fashionable Jersey Girl. She just threw some stuff into her ensemble and hoped some would stick. Flattering cuts were unheard of, and everyone looked pear-shaped…
Shoulder pads. Developed by Liz Claiborne in the 80s when women started joining the workforce in droves. I guess it gave them a more manly, assertive appearance. Whatever. Women's Lib and all, it's hideous.
The ugly white Naturalizer flats are formless and unflattering. Every 50-year old admin has a pair of these, much to my chagrin
And the crowning glory of the outfit: the mom purse. Genuine Top-Grain leather(?). You know that your mom still uses hers. I had no fewer than 40 people exclaim “oh my god my mom still has that fucking thing!” And guys said it, too, which speaks to the high level of authenticity it lent to my outfit. One gentleman even went so far as to describe the twist-clasp mechanism, all the while gripping his face in his hands in disbelief that this hideous relic of childhood still haunted thrift stores.
I would go into detail about my spot-on 1980s makeup (teal eyeliner and purple eyeshadow paired nicely with pink frosted lipstick), and teased hair (frizz included…the 1980s had yet to see anti-frizz serum) but I believe my work here is done.
Thank god that decade is over.

I did a little of this, a little of that, loaned my shades to a kid, and uncovered evidence of child absuse in the form of making a defenseless child wear crocs.

my intelligence has deteriorated so spectacularly that i now find humor on the innerwebz. in the form of silly cats.

what has become of me!!!!!????

i promise my next post will be more about this:and less about this:

what can i say? i like kitties.

winning just doesn't look the same

i want this (to match my new vanderkitten 'cross bike perfectly)

the golden shinguards of power didn't prepare me for what to do when a soccer ball actually comes into my general vicinity.

to two giunea pigs and and four cats...i study my little heart out at darden.
i am so buried in the books that it takes my marketing professor and the aforementioned rodents to tell me that i've been featured in the november issue of bicycling magazine.