Happy Anniversary

Yesterday after a morning of getting up at 5:30 am but not leaving the house until 7:15 am and stopping for pee breaks and gas breaks and then getting lost when the google directions had us take an exit off the freeway that was closed, we arrived just a touch too close to Morgan's start time. I think he had maybe 15 minutes to get ready.

I got out of the car and almost threw up because we'd just driven 75 mph on a two lane highway with some near misses in a gigantic safari land cruiser packed with bikes and food and other crap.
All this so we could race for 45 minutes each.
I went up the hill and registered all four of us for our respective races and then pinned and poked Morgan a bit.
With the kids off on their bikes to explore and climb trees and Morgan taking his one lap pre-ride, I went back to the car to make my breakfasts - some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Then it was back up to the course to hang around and watch and take some pictures.
I ate both peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in a matter of minutes and was a little too stuffed. And then over the next few hours I drank a whole lot of water.
The kid's race was right before the women's race and regrettably I missed them starting because I was down at the bathroom taking the 12th of my 15 pee breaks or something like that. On the way back up to the start I could hear them making their way down the side of the course so I pulled over to wait and cheer. And there he was, poor Sam, on the ground whimpering.
I made my way over to him and he moaned something about how he'd crashed on his "you know whats". Which of course a mom tries to be empathetic about, but also doesn't fully understand because us moms have never experienced the getting hit "in the you know whats" pain.
So as he was doubled over I asked him if he was ready to get back on and finish and he shook is head yes and got back on and I pushed him through the sand, hopped on my bike and rode the rest of his race right behind him cheering him on. By the time he got to the finish he was sobbing and thankfully there were a few dads there who understood what he was going through. Ice was magically shoved into my hand (does that really help with the nut pain?) and Sam sat down to rest.

(pic of lulu by rick)
Afterwards he told me that he'd hit the top tube with his "area" and then proceeded to ride down the hill in that position and then hit again at the bottom. A double whammy.
My race seemed short. I brought along some good mojo from some of those Facility kids and tied it in a secret place and it helped. I felt like I was really racing this time instead of just hanging on from a thread way in the back. I was in the mix this time.

The peanut butter and jellies and water came back to haunt me though. First because I think I had one of those peanut butter and jelly mustaches while I was racing. I was so busy peeing and pre-riding that I'd forgotten to check and primp my hairdo and face. I could kind of feel it on my cheeks and so I kept trying to wipe it off on the down hill. It was there, I think, maybe. Like a pirate mustache.
On the 3rd or 4th lap, I tried to pinch Tom Feix's butt while he was standing on the side talking to Rod and getting his strawberry trophy. So on the next lap he gave me some strawberries and I grabbed them and tried to eat one on a very STEEP climb and that one bite just pushed me over the edge. I started gagging and the dry heaves gave way.

I kind of heaved and gagged for the rest of the race.

(these 2 photos by rick too)
And then I finished and immediately proceeded to throw up in the bushes. And it tasted like strawberries and peanut butter and jelly. People pretended not to see me. I pretended not to see me.
Later that night Morgan suggested I google "dry heaves" and "bike racing" like it's some sort of condition. Maybe it's called "soccer mom trying to pretend she's still 30 and racing cyclocross in the B, B, B's and not really training" condition.
On the way home after another bathroom break for the kids in a dirty gas station bathroom, Lulu announced that she'd gone poop 5 times that day (probably because she'd eaten 3 tins of strawberries on her own) and it was then that Morgan turned to me and said "happy anniversary" and I said "oh yeah, that's right! it's today!"