Rockin' It at the Sea Otter Classic

If it's really true that, "If you don't show it, you didn't do it," then Shari did it the first day she got on the bike — taking a slide-out digger on a loose, off-camber right turn that ducked into the singletrack on our practice run the day before the race.

But perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. There was plenty of "doing" before we even got to Monterey.

The fun started right at SFO, when I met Shari in baggage claim. The second I spotted her (with new! cinnamon-brown hair!) the non-stop chatting and giggling began.

"Holy cow," I said. "It's so easy to pick out all the people from Utah! Just look at that poofy-haired lady in the stupid pants!"

"Yeah, but Steph," Shari replied, "it's pretty easy to pick out the people from San Francisco, too." She pointed to a long-haired, skinny, poseur-hippie-type dressed mostly in black.

"Yes. He's one of ours." Hahaha...



After a quick lunch of fresh seafood sandwiches at this place where I once sat just one table over from James Hetfield of Metallica, we dumped our stuff at my place, changed into some walking shoes, and went for a hike in Deer Park. It was sunny, but cold and windy. I promised Shari the wind would die down for the race.

Then, because I'm such a grand hostess, I dragged her to a meeting. Hahaha... Granted, it was at a brew-pub, and we got a free glass of beer, but still. What kind of person makes her sister go to a meeting, fresh off a plane from another time zone?

So skip the meeting, and let's get to the next extra-fun part: SLEEPING IN. We then fuelled up with home-cooked French toast (hey, breakfast is one of the few meals that don't result in a kitchen fire at Chateaux Steph), and climbed into the car for some sight-seeing. We hiked and drove all over Mt. Tam.



Shari loved the rolling soft hills, proclaiming them a "road-biker's heaven." On the way down from the peak, driving through the curvy redwood groves, we happened upon a Mercedes commercial being filmed. The driver of the car was a woman, proving once again which gender are the better drivers. ;)

Back at the apartment, Shari taught me how to play the card game "golf." I love it! Ya'll are in for it now. When I come visit, I will force you all to play it, over and over, until tears are shed. It's way fun. (Warning: I like to go out FAST. None of this piddle-around-waiting-for-the-perfect-card thing.)

And then... we went to Shady's to pick up Shari's trusty steed for the cross-country race!

The next morning, we packed up our stuff and prepared to leave for Monterey... but then re-packed our stuff after learning our bags wouldn't fit in the Subie along with the bikes. Every time this happens, I curse the day I destroyed my roof rack. That day has been cursed so many times, it's probably not even listening anymore. Shari packed light by streamlining her stuff to the bare necessities. I chose to pack light via the 'forget really important stuff like your pajamas and toothbrush' method. Potayto, potahto.

The drive to Monterey is pretty spectacular. You go through rolling hills that are bright green, past Gilroy (the garlic capital of the world!), through Eucalyptus groves and lush farmland, until the landscape ultimately gives way to giant sand dunes that line the beaches of Monterey. The sand dunes are pretty cool -- they're covered in bright flowers and colorful moss-like plants. But despite their beauty, Shari put two and two together.

"We're going to be riding on sand dunes?"

"What? Oh, no! It's like, green hills and stuff. No sand at all," I lied.

We dumped our stuff in the hotel room and drove to Laguna Seca Raceway, the Formula 1 track where the festivities were well underway. We checked in and picked up our schwag bags, then rode around to find access to the course to do a little pre-riding. We climbed up a dirt path, following the marked route. Shari's legs are so strong, she was spinning out on the climbs. It was pretty much all I could do to act cool and keep up with her. But luckily for my fragile ego, the uphills were always followed by downhills, where I got to go fast and feel tough.

Let me say one thing: Shari is brave. Mountain biking is no walk in the park. It's extremely difficult. It's difficult even if you have a killer bike and ride every weekend. But it's even more difficult to whip out a 20-mile race, on a tough sandy course, on a borrowed bike, with absolutely no experience whatsoever. Talk about baptism by fire! She showed no hesitation, no fear -- just excitement and a willingness to crash. Bravery points were being handed out by the dozen that day.

Downtown, we ate at a cheesy restaurant, that really wasn't that good, but it wasn't that bad, either, and they had a wide variety of stuff, so there you go. It was our pre-race dinner! We followed this with a pre-race toenail painting session, a must for any serious athlete.



In the morning, we rallied and drove to the race, only to find out that, at 7:30 in the morning, they were a half-hour behind schedule. What, you didn't think it would all go smoothly, did you? I was freezing cold in the thick morning fog, but Shari was much more calm and quite a bit more rational about her racing attire. She ditched her jacket before the start, I preferred to keep mine on until a mid-race opportunity (read: crash) presented itself. Our class was jam-packed with freakin' sandbaggers. My friend Heather (who ended up winning our class) is so not a "sport" level rider. There were also three women there getting a last-minute pep talk from their coach. You know -- if you have an actual professional coach (or if you're like my friend and you're a professional spin instructor for a living), you should kinda maybe think about moving up a level. Give us real sport class riders a pleasant experience.

And one of the women had a mustache.
Yeah, it wasn't looking good as far as podium finishes.

The gun (actually, a bell) went off, and everyone bolted from the starting line. Shari, using her road-bikin' muscles, was right up with me. The difference between us was, I was breathing hard and ready to quit, while she was making it look easy and making jokes. We hit the dirt and what ensued for the next few hours can only be described with Dad's word: Funishment.



Shari did a really great job. As for myself, I was drastically under-prepared; therefore, I drastically under-performed. Hahaha... But I had a lot of fun! Especially afterwards, when we'd earned the right to eat large, beef-based sandwiches and do nothing but watch the dual slalom, laze on the grass, and hang out with a few of my friends in a rented house with a gorgeous view.



I was sad to see the trip come to an end, but it did, like all good things do. Enjoy the photos -- there's more up on Facebook. Shari, you rule! :)