Floridays

Florida welcomed me with open arms. I was praying for rain. Some might find this strange, but LA is overwhelmingly dry. In fact I'm pretty sure in the year point two I lived there I gained some permanent aging wrinkles that would not have showed up for AT LEAST another five years had I stayed in Florida. You're asking what this has to do with rain. I'll tell you. Florida is wet. It's humid. It's hot. I love Florida. It keeps your skin young and your spirit on edge, in a good way. The summer storms throw you into a unavoidable solitude. Something everyone needs but can never give themselves. There's always something you are obligated to do. ALWAYS. And if there isn't, you'll make something up. But when it rains its like a spanish siesta. And when the thunder rolls it shakes your walls and your soul. This is why I was praying for rain. Soul shaking solitude.
My prayers were answered.
My flight landed to the sound of pitter patter on the windows. I was never so thankful to see gray skies. My friend Andy picked me up from the airport and we headed for the beach (he lives a block from the Atlantic). The perfect place for me to RAIN it in and reflect. I'm staying with him for three reasons: 1-He's one of my favorite people on this entire earth, 2-My parents are going through a divorce and think I'm their marriage counselor and 3-He lives a block from the beach, duh.
The next morning I woke to beautiful sunny skies. I immediately put on my bathing suit and walked to the beach, Andy's longboard in hand. Another thing I love about Florida: It's October and I'm surfing very comfortably without a wetsuit. Ahhhh! I love moments spent in the Atlantic. There's nothing like it. The sea is full of so much passion which doesn't necessarily make for the best waves, but it makes for beauty.
The waves were about two feet and I couldn't get out. Yes, that's right. I couldn't get out. It is always a humbling experience to spend a day in the Atlantic. I lovingly call it the white water tread mill. Now, if I had tried REALLY hard and incurred shoulder muscle trauma, I could've gotten out. But I was going more for the relaxing day at the beach vibe, so I remained the white water warrior. Whatever. I enjoyed my time in the water and that's all that matters.
After my hard core white water surf session I laid in one of my favorite spots on earth: the spot where the water meets the land. You lay there and the water rushes up against you flooding you, wrapping you up in its cold, energizing arms. I was laying on top of the board with my eyes closed, in a dream state. At one point one of those higher than normal tides rushed in and engulfed me. I opened my eyes and before they were able to adjust I saw the most beautiful sight. The ocean was this electric light blue and the sky was too. And the white was extra bright. the sand was that perfect color that is so much different than blue but somehow made to stand beside and beneath it. The entire earth within my range of vision was reflecting the sun's light in the most magnificent and glorious manor. Everything was brighter and at the same time softer. It brought a smile across my face that stretched to the deepest parts of my soul. As I was sitting there soaking up the view some guy on a bike rode by, turned around and said, "Hey! Girl! You make the perfect surf photo, I wish I had my camera."
I pictured myself at that moment and agreed. About the camera part. It would've been nice to have a photo of that moment.
Soon after I walked back to Andy's and soon after THAT the rain clouds poured in once again and once again I was so thankful. There was a list of things I had compiled in my head to fill the afternoon, but since I was on bicycle none of them could be done. I was so sad.
Yeah right.
The one thing I did get done before the rain began to soothe my soul into oblivion was buy some fruit, nuts and yogurt from the local health food store. I came back and made the most amazing smoothie and just as I sat down to drink/eat it the rains came down from the heavens, bringing the heavens to me. Andy's apartment is that perfect little beach place with a wooden porch the same size as the apartment itself. I opened all the doors and some of the windows and just sat there feeling and listening to the rain and thanking god for the moment. I even texted Andy a one liner, "I'm in heaven."
Sometimes you just need that day where nothing really happens but life itself. It is crucial for the soul's survival. The Florida rainstorms give you that chance. It sends you into this silent place. Everything shuts up but the sound of water and earth. Then there's the occasional outburst of electricity. Your soul melts and nothing really matters. You're just right there in it.

From Bike Star to Boat Star

As slowly as my bike tour began, it's end came rather quick. I shouldn't say end. There were still numerous countries to visit by bike. I was lured away on a major detour by the chance to full fill a lifelong dream of saltwater and sails. Yes, that's right. My professional sailor friend, Tim who picked me up hitch hiking offered to take me sailing. I was so excited! I left the group (who I think may have been a little jealous of my plans) and rode my bike down to Bristol where I sat and drank espresso as I waited for Tim to come and pick me up. He eventually arrived around 3:00 or so and made all the usual loving jests at my crazy biking lifestyle. We packed up the bike and headed for Newport, Rhode Island where we'd be staying the night. When I made plans to go sailing it totally made since because I thought we'd be sailing out of Newport. The rest of the group was heading to Boston and then we were to meet up on Saturday in New Hampshire. New Hampshire is far enough away from Newport as it is, but we weren't sailing out of Newport. We were sailing out of Rye, New York.
OH.
As we set sail out of the Yacht Club (yeah, a yacht club - my life is lived in polar opposite extremes) I got a view of the beautiful NYC skyline and had an overwhelming feeling of going backwards. How in the hell did I get all the way back where I started? The real guilt set in when I realized that I would probably not meet back up with my new family until Florida. I've been having a really hard time with this, but I couldn't find another solution that made since.
The group was heading to Montreal in a week and I could not legally accompany them for reasons I don't care to mention here. As open as I am, I'm just not gonna go there. So once I realized that I definitely couldn't join them to Montreal, and having a free ride back to New York, I decided to take the easiest route. If I were to make Timmy drive me all the way back to New Hampshire, I would then have to turn around a week later and get a train back to the city when they crossed the border.
So there I was, sitting at a Bed and Breakfast in Greenwich, CT which is the nation's richest zip code while my fellow bikers were hanging out at some super cool musician's collective in Boston. Where did I go wrong? One choice to take a few days of yuppiness ended my North East tour. As I sat there in that Bed and Breakfast in the yuppy town full of European hunting clothes shops and Mazarati dealers, I wished that I were sleeping on the dirty floor of some musician's apartment. I realized that this yuppy shit was boring. Never again would I leave my fellow riders for the dark side.
Now, as you know by now I'm a little dramatic in my writings. I like to make jokes. In no way shape or form is hanging out with my friend Tim the dark side. He's awesome. In fact, we enjoyed making fun of all the rich people he works for. I'm thankful for this experience and especially thankful for the opportunity to go sailing. It was really a beautiful experience. We sailed out of Rye and into Long Island Sound and the weather was PERFECT. Tim's bestfriend, Ben and his soon to be EXquazigirlfriend accompanied us. This made for some interesting dynamics. Thirty minutes into the trip we were three bottles of wine down with six more to go. This is when we realized that we were going to get totally SHIPfaced. Yes, I am a dork. By the time we made it across the sound we were six bottles deep and the sun was beginning to set. We moored the boat at some other yacht club and watched the sun go down. Then we went into the cab, ate cheese and bread and polished off the other three bottles of wine while playing "spoons." Whoever lost a hand had to shot gun a beer which I hadn't done since high school and which probably took things a little over the top. We proceeded to have a dance party on the deck as loudly as possible so that if anyone was sleeping they were definitely not anymore because what's a party without waking up and pissing off a bunch of yachters?
Our enthusiasm for drinking eventually fizzled away when Emma, Ben's soon to be EXquazigirlfriend, got mad, seriously mad, because she lost spoons and Tim fell asleep sitting up beer in hand. This was the moment where I put down the last half full glass of wine I was nursing and went to sleep. The next morning I woke up way too early, had some coffee and cheese, and went back to sleep. When I woke up again at a much more decent hour like 1 PM we set sail even though Ben was still in between napping and puking over the side of the boat. After we set sail I went to the front of the boat and took my second nap of the day because I realized there's not a whole lot else you can do on a sailboat.
I woke up again an hour later feeling worse than I did before the nap. Soon Ben came to life just before we pulled back into the yacht club from which we came. We made the necessary arrangements for the boat then headed for the Bed and Breakfast in Connecticut.
This was when the guilt really set in. This was where my longing to be back on the bike with my new family really started to overwhelm me. This was where I wished I had a better attitude about things in general. This was where I got on the internet and found out that there was a Landmark Forum beginning the next day in NYC. I've heard that they are life changing. And since my bike tour wouldn't be doing anymore life changing for the moment, what better way to use my time off than a little bit of attitude adjusting? Unfortunately, registration was already closed. I tried to weasel my way in but to no avail. The attitude adjusting would have to come later.
Whenever and where ever it took place, it had to happen. It needed to happen because I didn't feel OK about the things I was doing and I didn't know why. Nothing was ever good enough for myself. This started happening when I realized that my dreams weren't coming true and all of my confidence was set on those dreams of what I thought I would some day be. Believe it or not, I am an eternal optimist. I still believe that I can accomplish these dreams - mainly the dream of finally making a name for myself in the music industry. I still believed I could do this - but not with the current attitude that had come creeping into my way of thinking.
To make matters worse the supposed flea attack I experienced in Providence had evolved into a full blown explosion of poison oak in THE one place you don't want poison oak. And it spread all down my legs.
I was in a sensitive place and I didn't know how to work my way out of it. My insides were screaming for change and my outsides were begging to be scratched. My ego was unhappy with the progress I was making in my career. The real zinger: I knew the mental dialogue that needed to take place. I knew I needed to tell myself that (A) - this whole idea of success was just an american bred psychosis that I should do my best to heal, and (B) - Don't fucking scratch it! I knew all of this, but knowing didn't dampen the desire for success nor scratching. Both were deep rooted in my soul. I wanted it. What do you do when you have a desire so deep inside your heart that no self help book can talk you out of? There was only one answer that came to mind: You go out and get it... and scratch it. I scratched it. I scratched it all. I couldn't help it. It felt so good. In fact, if I ever have children and that moment comes when they ask me what an orgasm is, I will tell them that it is like scratching a really bad itch.
Thankfully this was exactly what I was doing.
All of the anxiety wore off with the physical, mental and spiritual hangover I had incurred from the week's overdose of red wine. Within a few days of being back in New York I was confident that I had made the right decision in all matters of my being (except the scratching) and promised myself that the next time I had a really bad hangover, I wouldn't lock myself in a Bed and Breakfast and ponder my life's worth. I would go... maybe do some shopping, or see a movie. You know, something that wouldn't drive me crazy.
Yeah.
The scratching was a different story. At one point I managed to go an entire day of throbbing itchiness with out scratching... UNTIL I GOT IN THE SHOWER. Upon feeling the hot water beat itself directly into the most terribly affected areas I literally had to brace myself on the tile wall as I groaned with pleasure. I couldn't take it anymore. I went crazy. Obviously this did not help at all. After a total of ten days of trying to talk myself out of scratching and failing miserably, I finally went to the doctor. He gave me steroids and some weird creamy stuff and by the end of the day it became bearable to live in my skin again.

Party Like a Bike Star

The Union of the Fearless

After a few days of hard riding and still another 55 miles to be done by nightfall, Eco and I decided to hitch hike.
HITCH HIKE.
I have one experience hitch hiking and it wasn't a good one. A friend and I hitch hiked up the Hana coast on Maui and were picked up by a hippy crack head who drove the canyons like she was on Disney World's Space Mountain. When I made it to my destination alive I promised myself I would never do it again.
I heard Eco mention hitch hiking numerous times through out the trip and thought to myself, "Hell no. I am not a hitch hiker." All it took was four days of hard riding and rushing to play gigs for that notion to fly out the door.
Of course it didn't take long for two chicks to get a ride, even in Connecticut. However, our new friend Chip could only give us a ride eight miles down the road to the next town which was Colchester. Oddly enough a good friend of mine, Tim was heading South on I-95 which was only fifteen minutes away from where we were dropped off. Tim is a professional sailor and was on his way to New York to deliver gear for the next race. I knew he was somewhere in the north east and texted to ask where.
He was there in twenty minutes and gave us a ride straight to our fancy hotel room at the Holiday Inn (ROCKSTAR) in New London. He and I headed to Chili's for Margaritas and I was officially SO STOKED that I hitch hiked. I now had the rest of the day to chill out before our gig at Connecticut College at 10 PM.
That night at the gig we had our first official melt down as a group. Brock told everyone he was leaving to go back to Melbourne the next day because he wasn't inspired by the music. Everyone else was tired from that day's ride (apparently it was a lot of uphill) and Kipchoge informed everyone that we had only a day and a half to make it to Providence which was about sixty miles. Everyone was pretty disheartened because it was already 1 AM and we hadn't even gotten back to the hotel room yet. I told him that I just wanted the opportunity to get enough sleep so that I would be able to ride hard the next day. We made a plan to leave the next morning at 11.
I went back to the hotel room and went straight to bed. The next morning everyone fell apart. Brock decided to stay with the band but wanted to ride the entire day by himself. Kipchoge was the only other person that wanted to ride. The rest of us decided to take the train which was $30 and would get us to Providence in fifty minutes. That sounded like a dream come true to me. We decided to use our new found time wisely and eat a HUGE breakfast. We all sat down together except for Brock who went to a table across the restaurant and sat by himself.
I ordered a cup of coffee AND a bloody mary, some eggs florentine AND blueberry pancakes to share with the table. After Brock's breakfast alone he decided that he had enough alone time and was now ready to re-integrate into the group and ride the train with us. We all rode to the train station and got our tickets. We had the bright idea of rolling our bikes up to the tracks and hoping they would just allow us to get on the train with them. After waiting for the train for over an hour our hopes were slashed as we watched the train pull out to Providence without us. It was a smaller train that had no room for the bikes. We refunded our tickets and headed to the ferry to see if there were any to Providence.
There weren't.
We were starting to get desperate. I called the only rental car service in New London and they didn't allow one way rentals. I called Uhaul and they had no trucks left. We literally tried everything. By this time Eco was set on hitch hiking. I really didn't want to try my luck at it a second time in two days. I searched for any possible solution. It was the first time in my life that I had ever been stranded with no one to call to come save me. I ran through my list of contacts across the nation and couldn't think of a single person I knew in the area.
Hitch hiking, again. I was not happy about this. I didn't feel nearly as confident about it this time which made me feel even worse. But it was my only option. We biked up to the on ramp for I-95 and decided to go in two groups. Sammy and Cara would go to together and Eco, Brock and I would be the other group. Sammy and Cara decided to hitch in what Eco said was "a really bad spot." The three of us continued on up the road a bit to try and find a "better spot." Ten minutes later I saw a black pick up pull over and Eco and Brock told me I should hop in with them. At this point I was so desperate to get to Providence that I didn't care how it happened or with who. I pictured myself beating some hick's ass if he tried anything. I got to the pick up and he barely had enough room for a third bike and biker but we managed to squeeze it in. To my heart's dismay he could only take us across the border to Rhode Island, which meant we'd have to hitch hike AGAIN. He was a really sweet guy and I was thankful to have such great luck with this hitch hiking crap. He dropped us off at a Mcdonald's and once again our thumbs were back in action. Not ten minutes went by before another truck pulled over. He asked where we were going. I told him Providence and we were willing to pay him. He told us he'd take us all the way there. I was so relieved. I don't think my heart could've handled being stranded one more time that day.
I got into the back of his pick up and saw a bible. Never in my life had I been so happy to see a bible. It turned out he was the pastor of his church and lived six miles down the road from where he had picked us up. He had just come from Providence and was now going all the way back there to drop us off. We were thanking our lucky stars for sending such great people our way.
Not only were we lucky to find rides but also to find great people to stay with. When we were dropped off to our new location in Providence we thought it would be some one who knew someone in the band. This wasn't the case. They responded to a craig's list add that one of our crew posted. They opened their doors to complete strangers.
I now live in this wide open universe of TRUST. There is this entire culture of people, a union of the fearless. It's like the Lord of the Rings where the hobbits travel from town to town and camp or stay in some stranger's house. This is my life now.
Our new Providence home was a three story, three unit house that was run as a collective and had anarchy posters all over it. There was nothing archaic about the way the house was run EXCEPT for the litter box which just happened to be in the room I was staying in. The cat that lived in that room had problems getting the shit IN the box, so there were turds on the floor.
It smelled.
Bad.
Very bad.
I had a hard time sleeping in there. It got even harder when I woke up the next morning to find itchy bumps on my groin and legs. I thought I was a victim of a flea infestation. That night I laid awake the entire night scratching my groin and holding a shirt over my nose to block out the smell. All I could think about was how much I hated cats and could not understand why anyone would want an animal that not only cares NOTHING about you but also pisses and shits INSIDE your house. Then it takes it little pissy shitty paws and spreads the fecal particles all over your furniture.
As thankful as I was for our new friends, I was just as thankful to be heading to Barrington the next day. We had a short ride of sixteen miles on a beautiful bike path. When we got to the prep school we'd be playing at the next morning they offered to feed us dinner in their school cafeteria.
I thought to myself "Great, microwave cardboard pizza. Yum."
Low and behold, they had their own chef who prepared a thanksgiving style feast for us! It was some of the most amazing food I'd had on the entire tour. Mashed potatoes with the red skins still on, vegetarian cranberry stuffing, turkey, gravy, TOFU! It was amazing.
Not only was the food great but the next morning I played my favorite show yet. I saved my new electronic song, Tunnel Vision for last. Everyone in the audience started clapping to the beat and a few of them even gave me a standing ovation.
After the show I went into the cafeteria for another fabulous feast. As I was eating my veggie burger with Sammy and Eco a few kids strolled over and asked for our autographs. Within minutes their was a crowd of kids on us like flies on shit. Raving fans were waving paper napkins at us. Ok, so maybe it was only like ten or fifteen kids. But still! I felt like I had made it!

The first OFFICIAL days of riding

This is really hard. REALLY HARD. I imagined it being REALLY REALLY hard. This is even harder than I imagined. Seriously.
The first real ride happened last Sunday night. Saturday night we played this awesome party in upstate New York. A bunch of local farmers gathered for a weekend of workshops on anything from bee farming to rabbit roasting. So many amazing people were there.
Since the party was way out of our way we had to get rides there and then secure another ride the next morning to a spot where we would start our ACTUAL bike tour. Severeign, the party host recruited a truck to take us there. A beautiful, green eyed sweet heart of a man named Matt was the driver of the truck. I talked to him quite a bit the night before and was SO HAPPY to find out that he would be one of the drivers. I made sure that my stuff ended up in his truck. And since he had a single cab he could only fit two others beside himself. I sat in the middle. OH YEAH. The other driver was Kipchoge's mom. We all had quite a time downsizing our bags and getting our loads together. I managed to once and for all get rid of anything and everything that wouldn't fit into just one dry bag. My keyboard was so overwhelmingly heavy that I had no choice but to send my beloved computer and recording gear back to Manhattan. It was a moment of anxiety parting with it. I was so close to grabbing it out of the car. Another hard parting experience was with my blue jeans. This is the first time in my life where I haven't had a bad ass pair of blue jeans handy. I had to make a decision between my grey diesel jeans which truly are awesome and my blue jeans. I threw the blue jeans in the exit bag which was already in our friend Greg's car. Then I went back over to my bag and stood there staring at my grey jeans, imagining all the shirts I would wear with them. Then I switched them out with the blue jeans. Then I switched them again and asked Greg to hurry up and leave before I switched again because I was starting to worry about myself.
We finally got the bikes loaded up and I finally got to sit REALLY close to the beautiful man named Matt who, the more he talked, became more and more beautiful. He is an industrial designer for a firm called Ecosystems in NYC.
This man was so sweet. He drove us hours out of the way, all the way to Massachusetts and then all the way back to the city that night because he had to work the next morning. When we finally got to the random spot that Kipchoge chose - RANDOMLY - we un packed the bikes and then packed them. I was scared. For the whole drive up there I felt like a person on death row walking towards their doom. I felt that final moment closing in on me. I know this is really dramatic but seriously, this is how I felt. I was especially feeling anxiety because this would be a night ride. Why are all my first rides at night? WHY!!
Matt and I played frisbee for awhile while we waited for the rest of the crew to finish packing. When it was finally time to say goodbye I gave him a big hug and told him that I enjoyed sitting bitch with him. He said, "It's always good to have a nice bitch." So adorable. So freakin adorable. Days later he facebooked me and wrote only one line, "The ride back wasn't the same without my bitch."
I replied with only one line, "Maybe I can be your bitch again someday."
I would love that.
But at that moment, it was time to ride. The first few pedals were way worse than I ever expected them to be. Brock had taken my loaded bike for a spin to check the weight and put it on the easiest gear. Our first ride was downhill and my load kept wobbling all over the place and I couldn't even pedal once without falling over. Already the group was gone and I was left there flailing like a fish out of water. Kipchoge, Jared and Brock came back to help me out. Jared ended up having to push me like my dad pushed me the first time I ever rode without training wheels. FINALLY I got going but I didn't know which buttons changed which gears and still my load was wobbling from side to side causing my bike to lose control. I kept jumping off and freakin out. On the train ride to upstate my xtracycle had come off. I asked Kipchoge if this may have happened again. He quickly looked at it and said no. I would soon find out that he is famous for acting like you're CRAZY for thinking something is wrong with your bike and then totally overlooking the fact that something IS actually wrong.
So I kept riding... and falling... and riding... and falling. Finally we came to a huge hill and Jared stayed behind with me to encourage me to keep pedaling. He thought something sexual was happening on my bike from the constant heavy panting interspersed with "OH FUCK, OH FUCK, OH FUCK."
It was hard. I was sweating like a pig and had to quit and walk my bike often. Every time I stopped pedaling my bike fell over. Finally after pedaling up one hill as far as I possibly could and falling over I looked down at my bike to see that the xtracycle had in fact come off on one side. This was ten miles of wobbling craziness later. I cursed Kipchoge's name in a loving manor. Jared eventually came back to help and reattached the xtracycle for me and GUESS WHAT!! I could actually ride the bike! I could pedal without wobbling and falling over! I could charge the downhills without laying on the brakes like a little p#$$y! I was starting to feel better about myself.
At some point Eco's xtracycle also came off and she crashed pretty badly. I am sorry to say that I heard the "OH SHIT! OH FUCK!" followed by the sound of crashing and I kept going. Yes, I am the lame ass that kept going. This was before my xtracycle was reattached and I was still wobbling all over the road and I was afraid that if I stopped I too would crash and fall. I didn't hear any car screaching or sounds of pain. If I had, I definitely would have stopped, I SWEAR!!
A car soon pulled me over to tell me that my fellow rider had crashed.
"Oh really?"
I felt like an asshole.
I asked if she was alright and they said she was fine.
Thank god.
THANK GOD.
I kept going until I caught up with Dave, Cara and Jared. We waited for the rest of the crew for awhile and finally Sammy showed up and reported that Eco was in fact totally fine and Kipchoge was fixing her bike. We eventually decided to keep riding until midnight at which point we would find a camping spot. I rode up one last hill around midnight and my legs finally gave out half way and I fell over because my arms were too tired to hold the bike up anymore. I told my friends I was done.
DONE!
Luckily I fell right by a perfect camping spot down the hill along some rushing river. We set up our tents and went swimming. It felt so amazing. It was cold as... the opposite of hell, I guess? I welcomed it. I wrapped my hands around a rock on the bottom so I wouldn't be swept away by the current and fully submerged myself. I enjoyed every moment of the cool water flowing through my hair and sweeaping away the nights grease and road dirt. I felt fully renewed.
Soon after we got word from the rest of the crew that they were camping by the turn off that we SHOULD have taken a few miles back and uphill.
Awesome.
Something to look forward to in the morning.
I returned to my tent and soon found that I really can't sleep after a lot of exercise. Especially when I know I have to wake up super early and get a lot MORE exercise. I laid awake for hours listening to things moving outside of my tent and visualizing some huge creepy animal pouncing on my tent and eating me alive. I soon realized that THIS was DEFINITELY not going to help me sleep AT ALL. I finally got my ipod out and wondered why I hadn't done that hours ago. I listened to Ray LaMontagne's "Be Here Now." That song moves me. It did the trick. I finally fell asleep.
The next morning Cara woke me up at 7:15. I literally got about three hours of sleep. I knew this would be a long day. We packed our bikes and rode to meet the rest of the crew. We went to a small diner and at a HUGE breakfast. We looked at a map and were happy to see that we made it fifteen miles the night before. Only thirty more to go today. But these thirty miles had to be done by 5 PM because we were scheduled to play at Hampshire College. We asked the lady what a good route would be. She told us to take some road that would be a little up a gradual hill and then once we got to another road it would be all downhill to our destination.
That bitch.
That lady was a bitch.
Actually, she was nice. But totally a bitch because once we got up that "gradual" hill and turned onto the "downhill" road we faced the hugest hill yet that went on for what seemed like forever.
I almost cried.
I really almost cried. I had to get off my bike and push it up the hill until I was too tired to do that, then I'd pedal literally 20 feet and stop again. It took me FOREVER to get up the hill. The others had LONG passed me. Finally Cara (the other new rider) also passed me. I knew Kipchoge was waiting behind me. As I stood there I could feel his eyes burning into me. I finally turned around to look at him and sure enough the look on his face said "Give me a f#ckin break and get on your bike and pedal."
I tried. And failed. And walked. And tried. And failed.
Finally hours later I reached the top where there was a local produce store and the rest of the crew was waiting for me. We rested and ate peaches and I thanked God that the hill was over.
We continued on and for the rest of the day it was up and down. By the last five miles I was beginning to feel things inside of myself that I did not want to own. Dark things. Dark, dark things. I was tired and the last bit was all up hill. A gradual hill, but nonetheless up hill. I was pissed. I was tired. I was hungry because we hadn't eaten lunch. This is the worst combination of circumstances for those around me. This is where I become a mega grouch.
My legs were done. I had never pedaled this far before in my life and especially never with a huge load. I had one of the heaviest loads in the group. By the time I got to the gig no one really wanted to look at me because of the nasty scowl on my face.
Like I said, there were DARK things going on inside me.
We literally had to get off the bike, set up and play. I was close to not playing and Kipchoge said that it was fine if I didn't want to. I went to the bathroom which was down two flights of stairs and changed. I bathed with a wet towel and waddled back up the two flights of stairs. I felt at any moment my legs would collapse beneath me. I was able to at least scrounge up enough mental will to get myself to play. And I actually sounded decent. I couldn't believe it.
I only played three songs then let the Ninjas take over.
I was so over it. I grabbed a blanket and my journal and found a spot away from everyone. I wrote about all of the horrible things I was thinking. I didn't like anyone, I didn't want to talk to anyone and I HATED myself for not having a better attitude about everything. I also wrote about the fact that I knew these evil, dark thoughts weren't truth. It wasn't me. It was just some kind of nasty energy making it's way out of my soul and back to the horrid place it came from.
The next morning this horrible, dark energy literally did take it's exodus from my body in the form of menstruation.
I felt like getting down on my knees and praying thanks to the heavens that it really wasn't my fault that I had turned into a dark, evil bitch. It was hormones.
Oh thank the lord it would be over soon!!
Thank you!!
Oh... wait.
I have to ride today and I know any minute now the cramps will sink their claws into my ovaries. I took a preemptive strike in the form of aleve. There was no way I was going to let myself feel any other pain than what I felt in my ass and thighs.
We were scheduled to play at a co-op about five miles away. I didn't know how I was going to make it. My legs were tired. I asked Cara how she felt on day three. She said it was one of the hardest days for her.
"Great."
This is the day when I was truly surprised by the strength and adaptability of my own body. The first five minutes I was hurting, then all of the sudden something weird happened. I was passing everyone. And it didn't hurt like hell. I was even taking Kipchoge on the hills. Soon I was up with Samantha who is the fastest rider of the group. We stopped at a turn and looked behind and everyone else was way far behind me. I was confused. Just yesterday I couldn't even keep up with the group on a flat bike path and all of the sudden today I was passing them on hills. I thought for sure that wouldn't last. We got to the gig and everyone commented on how I had just kicked ass. I made an excuse for it, "It was only five miles and there weren't any big hills."
Then after the gig we had to ride ten miles to the our new friend, Audree's winery. Again, I kicked ass. What the hell? I was passing everyone. I was even ahead of Sammy for awhile until we got to a HUGE hill that I was determined to make my way up with out stopping. That's where she passed me with her calm, cool, happy self. I continued to pant and pray my way up the hill. I was thanking god for my strength all the way up the hill. Jared finally passed me. I could see the end in sight. I was still in my second gear and my legs couldn't do it any longer. I had to change to the first gear at which point I lost my balance and fell over. I didn't make it. I didn't care. I picked my bike up and walked the rest of the way up the hill and then continued on. I still beat almost everyone there and couldn't believe it. What had happened to me?
We went inside the barn we were to sleep in and there was a fire lit and numerous bottles of wine laid out for us. We were beyond stoked! I went straight for the shower. I couldn't wait to shave my legs. I was so excited.
The immediate buzzkill came when Kipchoge followed me into the bathroom to tell me that we would be waking up at 5:30 in the morning to ride forty miles. You could see the smile drop from my face to the floor as he crushed it with his foot like a finshed cigarette butt. It was already 11 PM and he was basically telling me that even if I went to sleep RIGHT THEN I wouldn't get seven hours of sleep.
THIS made me VERY unhappy.
He told me "not to party too hard."
I once again cursed his name without saying it out loud. I took my shower and we did some yoga. Then drank and talked for awhile. I tried to go to sleep but everyone talked and talked... and talked... and talked. My mood got worse and worse as my chance for sleep trickled away like an hour glass turned upside down.
Finally crystabitch came back. I went in the other room and was sure to grab my sleeping bag with a jerk so that everyone knew I was pissed. Mainly it was Bill I was pissed at. Bill is the 50+ hippy cling on who found us on the AmTRIPPYtrack trip from Denver to New York and has been following us to gigs in his daughter's car ever since. He sets up his congas in the back so no one can hear him because he's not very good. Nobody has the heart to tell him to stop following us everywhere because he's actually a very nice man, just little crazy. So in my opinion and most other's, he shouldn't have even been there but was the one that was keeping everyone awake.
I managed to continue NOT sleeping until 5:30 AM when Kipchoge told me it was time to get up and I told him, "I didn't sleep at all."
If you ever want to see evil in it's most primal form, wake me up before the sun comes up. Go on, I dare you. And especially when it's cold outside. Oh man, you are in for it.
I sat by the fire drinking coffee and scowling at those around me. I asked Hippy-cling-on-Bill to carry my keyboard in his car because there was no way I would be able to keep up with everyone in the state I was in. I then told Kipchoge that I felt I needed to just ride with Bill to the next gig. He looked at me like I was a total slacker and said whatever I chose to do to just do it because everyone was waiting on me.
THIS really pissed me off. If there is any one thing I can say for myself it is that I am a fast packer and almost always on the bike waiting for everyone else. (The next morning I felt like bringing this up when we were all on our bikes waiting for Kipchoge, but I'm trying to be mature about things these days.)
I packed my things and took off on my bike. Kipchoge had already left to hit up a library and everyone else was dickin around as usual. Once again I got to the destination long before anybody else and continued to be in the lead for the rest of the day. I couldn't believe how fast my body acclimated to the bike lifestyle. I had gotten no sleep and I was passing people on the hills. Granted, there were no BIG hills and I didn't have my keyboard, but still, I was gettin it and I felt great about it.
At one point in the day we decided to take a brake. Hippy-cling-on-Bill also decided to take a brake from the hard driving he's been doing and said, "Man, I really gotta get a bike. I can't keep following you guys in this car, it's killing me." A few us looked at each other and said everything in the silence that lurked between our eyes.
Eco's dog, Hoku, was getting tired of being carried around in her side bag so she gave him to Bill to take in the car. We rode forty miles back down to Connecticut and where Bill was waiting for us at a strip club. We found him at "Kahoot's" and sat on the blanket he had laid out for us and ate the enormous pizza he had also thoughtfully acquired for us. In his afternoon of waiting he made friends with Gia, a brazilian stripper who was kind enough to let him use her cell phone and who also especially wanted to meet Brock. The group had mixed feelings about being at a strip club, in fact, the only person who was really excited about it was Brock. Bill had set up a private dance for him. I thought about not going in but couldn't resist the temptation to meet Gia and get a visual of Brock during his private dance. WE all went in except for Dave and Cara. After approximately three minutes of watching the stripper shake her ass in Brock's face I went back outside. The others remained inside for another five minutes and then soon followed. Brock jokingly got out his handkerchief and made for a private spot where he could take care of business.
We still had some riding to do to find a camp spot so we set out. Hippy-cling-on-Bill was sad to find that we were on a bike path and there would be no way for him to meet up with us at the camp site. As nice as he was, none of us shared his sentiment.
I was so happy to finally be at the camp spot. I put up my tent in a perfect spot full of poison ivy or oak or something and crawled in never to return to the outside world until the morning. I asked Kipchoge through the closed door of my tent world if we could sleep in a little the next day. He said "No, we've got sixty miles to do tomorrow. We need to wake up at 6:00 AM." It was now 8 PM and we had just finished a good 12 hours of riding. I called my mom and her answering machine picked up. The sounds of her voice brought tears to my eyes and soon I was crying silently so the group wouldn't hear my sobs. I longed for the comfort of my family. I was tired and there was no end to the long grueling days in sight. I was aware and happy about the fact that my body did so well physically that day. This brought me comfort. But the long days were unfortunately wearing on my mental health. The lack of sleep was getting to me. Fortunately this enabled me to quickly fall sleep. But not before I heard Kipchoge pass the torch of "the waker" to Brock. Brock immediately told the camp that we would ride out at 9:00 AM. This brought some comfort to my weary mind. I slept twelve hours that night and the next morning I woke up a much happier person. Especially when I found out that I would barely have to ride at all that day.

The Whirlwind...

That is my life right now. Every morning I wake up in a panic thinking of the things I need to do and trying to go back to sleep to escape them. I'm in New York right now and I typically only last a few days in this place before my mind, body and spirit goes to shit. It's not necessarily the place itself, it's the crowd I hang with. My best friend to be exact. SOOOO much fun. One of the most fun people on earth. But boy, is it HARD to keep up with him. ESPECIALLY during fashion week. He's a photographer and gets onto the list for all the cool parties. Last night, for example, I FELT cool. I felt SO COOL! He got us on the list for a private party where MGMT played. It's the kind of party where everyone stands around looking at everyone else because everyone looks so cool. That's the fashion world.
Back to MGMT. I LOVE MGMT! They are one of my favorite bands right now. The last few weeks I was in LA I listened to them a lot, especially while packing or getting rid of things. They made me feel so inspired to just get up and go. To just leave it all behind for a life more lived.
Since it was a private party it was very intimate. Maybe only a couple hundred people, very beautiful people. We were in the front row and there weren't any raging teens pushing elbows into our backs. It was so nice. AND there was free Belvedere vodka. I texted Jared to tell him that I felt like I had made it. He texted me back and said, "You have. And you will."
I love it when he says things like that.
So back to my morning panic attacks. They are happening because I'm about to leave for the ACTUAL bike tour. Everyone else has already left. Except for Kipchoge and I. Kipchoge is flying in from mexico tonight HOPEFULLY with the love of his life, Eco whom he flew down to Mexico to retrieve and live happily ever after with. None of us know if he has succeeded yet because he won't tell us how it's going. We're hoping for the best.
There are a couple of reasons why I haven't left yet. One is that I am TOTALLY dragging my heels like a little diva bitch. I don't know what is wrong with me. I guess I've really walked too far down that comfortable path. Soon I won't have a choice. Soon I will be totally knocked off my little comfy trail of "wanna-be-rockstar blvd" and dragged through the road puddles of dirt and grease and I think this is scaring me. So I'm hanging onto every last minute of my "wanna-be-rockstar" life. My best friend's beautiful, huge, comfortable brooklyn loft, the nice dinners out, my hair dryer... wow. LIsten to me. These are things I never used to care about. It makes me wonder at which point I became a dumb ass.
Thankfully there is ONE legitimate reason that I am still here in my best friend's beautiful, huge, comfortable loft. I'm waiting for a keyboard case that one of our sponsors (TKL) is sending me. I really don't want to leave without my keyboard. I've been coming up with some pretty cool things and I feel like it's definitely where my music is heading. But then I sing a song like "Own Way" and Jared tells me THAT is my voice. So pretty much these days I am confused about where my music is going. There are so many different types of music that I love, and so many different types of music I want to perform. Shit. There's so many different types of careers I want to have! This world is sometimes just too much for me to handle. How can I choose one job? One genre? One guy (just kidding - I actually would LOVE to choose just one guy. Hey! Are you out there anywhere?) But as far as everything else goes - I love so many things and just don't see how I can narrow it down to just one ANYTHING (except a guy -I do want just one guy who also can't narrow it down to just one thing except a girl - me :)
So that's where I'm at with music right now. So confused. Worried about being marketable. But maybe I shouldn't worry about that at all. The record industry is dying a slow and painful death. Do I even need to be marketable anymore? Or can I just express the truth that comes through me musically. To LIVE like that, that would be happiness, right? Not worrying about whether or not your expression - whatever it may be - is accepted. If I'm feeling blue I sing the blues. If I'm feeling high I write a happy electronic song. Does it really have to be JUST ONE?

My Initiation and Then Some...

Saturday was our first official day of the tour. We got started late because Kipchoge had to fix a few things on the bus. We didn't get going until 3 p.m. and were expected to be playing by 8 in yosemite. Needless to say that wasn't the case. As far as we knew the plan was to drive down to the river. There was a lot of excitement to be on the bus going to our first gig which was at the after party for the Cherry Creek kayak race. At one point Kipchoge yelled "Get ready for the next adventure!" and we all started hooping and hollering and Brock and Jared wrestled (don't ask).
As the sun started setting Kipchoge once again yelled for us to get our head lamps out because it was getting dark. I thought to myself "I wonder why he doesn't just use the dome light?" But I got it out anyway because basically you do whatever Kipchoge says to do. Once the sun had set Kipchoge finally enlightened us on HIS plan. We were to park the bus at the end of the pavement and ride the bikes down to the river valley. This came as a huge surprise to all of us. None of us expected to be riding. I was scared. First of all, why didn't he tell us earlier? Like maybe at any point in the 4 hour drive when there was sun light? I needed to go through all my things and pack a light travel bag. Jared told me that I didn't need anything. Just the sleeping bag and thermorest. Whatever! I managed to gather a few things: tooth brush, jacket, camera, chapstick, floss, etc. into my chico bag as Kipchoge told us the details of the ride. One mile uphill and five miles downhill on gravel road in the pitch black dark of night. The only kind of bike I've ever ridden is a beach cruiser and now THIS was to be my first experience riding a mountain bike? Luckily Kipchoge didn't pack my bike with too much stuff. Brock sat on the back of the bike so I could practice riding around with a load. I was floundering. It wasn't looking good.
Surprisingly I caught on quick though. We headed out up the hill and shortly I was feeling like I needed to get off my bike and walk. But that just wasn't acceptable. At one point someone called my name and I gladly stopped and waited for them. However, when it was time to ride again I couldn't get going up the hill without falling over. Jared had to push the bike for me to get going. I felt like I was nine again and my father was pushing me along, trying to teach me to ride with out training wheels (yes, it took me THAT long to learn how to ride a bike with out training wheels, shut up).
As I unknowingly neared the top of the hill I began to express to Jared and Kipchoge that I was definitely not going to make it to the top. Kipchoge told me that my gear was to high. I lowered it and lowered it and lowered it as far as I possibly could. As the burning in my legs got to the point where it was absolutely unbearable and just as I was about to hop off my bike the road flattened out. I was happy. Then started the downhill. I don't know if you've ever tried biking down a mountain on a gravel road with a loaded bike in the pitch black darkness but I definitely don't recommend it, especially as a training run.
As I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to survive this trip without gravel rocks stuck into every inch of my face and hands I hear Kipchoge exclaim, "Straight into the fire! For some reason this is how everyone's first ride is."
"Great. That's just great."
I was laying on the brakes pretty hard as Jared continually gave me pointers on how not to crash and burn. As we rounded a bend we heard the creepiest growl that I've ever experienced and saw huge eyes glowing. We saw an animal moving toward us . "Oh shit! It's huge. It's a mountain lion! It's going to tear us apart. "
As I was shitting my pants and squealing like a pig bitch, Jared took control of the situation. He stopped riding and put himself between the ferocious animal and I and yelled for me to pass on the outside. I made my run praying that the savage predator would go for Jared instead of me. Just kidding. But seriously, even in my moment of despair I made a mental note of Jared's chivalry. I rode as fast as I possibly could not wanting to look back and see my precious dear friend being torn apart by the mountain lion.
Suddenly I hear laughter. I look back and Mayo (my dog) comes running up wagging his tail. My new friend OBO had been assigned to walking my dog down the mountain because there weren't enough bikes. He thought it'd be funny to freak the new girl out. So the ferocious animal was none other than my sweet little innocent dog (unless you're a chicken - then he's not so sweet).
With death narrowly averted I continued the downward spiral of gravel rock mountain road. For a moment I was keeping up with the front two riders - Kipchoge (the leader of the pack) and Dante (crazy awesome know it all engineer bike mechanic can literally fix anything guy). Of course, in my newness I soon fell behind but took comfort in knowing that Jared and Brock were right behind me. Or were they?
"Wait a minute, I see nothing behind me... or in front of me. All I can see is the pitch black Sierra Nevada darkness that extends 3 ft beyond my shitty little head lamp. Oh god. I'm freakin out. Oh god, there's glowing eyes in the bushes. Oh god, how steep is that cliff I almost ran off of. HEYYYYYYYYYYYY!! WAIT!! Jared! Brock!! Kipchoge!! Hey!! Wait!!"
No one answered back. The bike floundered underneath me and thankfully I was able to jump off before it hit the ground. I picked the bike up and took a minute to look around. Surely if I stopped and REALLY looked around I'd see someone's lights ahead of or behind me.
"No. OH GOD. I'm all alone and it's fucking dark and scary out here. What the fuck was I thinking of coming on this tour. I wish I were in LA. I want to go home. I can't go home. I don't have a home anymore. I don't even have a car. FUCK! It's dark out here. I can't see shit. If I leave now after only one day everybody is gonna think I'm such an idiot."
By now I'm speeding down the mountain. The idea of falling has become much better than getting eaten by the glowing eyes in the bushes. My brakes are soon forgotten. After about a half hour of these rants in my head interspersed with "HEYYYY! WAIT!!" I finally see the distant blue glow of Kipchoge's bicycle "down glow." I catch up to them and say "Thank you!" They were confused.
"For what?"
"For waiting," I said.
"Oh," Kipchoge answers, "We weren't waiting. Dante had some problems with his lights."
"Oh." And silence. "I was yelling for you guys to wait."
"Oh," and silence.
We got back on the bikes and I am all about keeping up with them at this point. I don't care if I fall. Bring it on! I don't care if I get a piece of gravel permanently lodged in my eyeball, I am not getting left out here in the dark alone EVER AGAIN!
Soon we reach the base, "Thank god, we've made it. Oh thank the lord. Thank you!" My hands are soar from leaning on the handle bars and my brain is wore out from freaking out. The three of us ride into camp (Jared and Brock are still nowhere to be found) and immediately everyone starts yelling and cheering. We stop in the center of the camp and people crowd around us, literally giving us a standing ovation. Nobody could believe that we actually biked down that path on mountain bikes in the middle of the night (it was midnight by the time we arrived). Kipchoge tells them all "This is her first time on a mountain bike and she made it down the mountain!" Everybody yells and screams and claps. Man did I feel good. This new sense of strength and coolness spread over my body like melted butter on a corn cob.
As the crowd dispersed I heard someone say "You don't even have to play music, you're already a bad ass!"
I think to myself, "Dude, THIS is awesome."
I felt like a bad ass.
Escaping mountain lions and facing the cold dark night alone was so worth it!
I was officially on the tour.
For good.

We set up our pedal powered stage and I played my set first. I only played four songs since we were literally four hours late. Everyone loved it. Of course they did. They were waisted. Still, it felt great to be appreciated.
After my set OBO went on. This guy is freakin awesome. He's this tall, lanky Irish American red headed dread headed hippy folk rock star with a read straw hat and Abe Lincoln beard who sings about special K while beat boxing these crazy little rhythms.
As he was doing his thing I went to take care of some very important business - food. Food. Food. Food.
Beep beep beep there it is. On that picnic table. I made a sandwich and sat down. A few people made their way over to me to give me their respects and what not. Soon a cute boy sat down next to me and we started bantering.
We talked about a lot of different things. How he's currently in law school, where we're each from, etc. He told me that this race was THE biggest Kayak race on the west coast. I joked around and asked him if he won.
He said with a very serious face, "Yes."
"Wow. Cool."
We proceeded to dance, take shots of tequila, make fun of each other, and all of the flirty things you do when you meet a cute one. At one point we were talking to another of the kayakers and my new friend slipped away for a minute. The "other guy" proceeded to tell me, "Dude, Charley is so humble but you have no idea, he is one of, if not THE top Kayaker in the world. He's even got his own clothing line."
At this point there's one word streaming through my alcohol ridden mind, "Hot."
An hour later we're making out by the river. "Hot." However, five minutes later Charley was passed out on the ground, beer still in hand.
"Well, that was fun. I think I'll make my way back up to the party."

The Ginger Ninjas were well into their late night set by now and everyone was dancing and having a great time. After they finished Jared and I decided to walk down to the river. We made our way down, stepping over Charley and making the usual comments of beauty and wonder. We sat on the rocks for awhile taking it in. Then we decided that we should definitely sleep down there. Thankfully at some point Charley woke up and made his way to some other spot. We went up and got our thermo rests and sleeping bags and made our beds in the sand.
I think to myself, "This just keeps getting better. Sleeping under the stars, and now by a rushing river that is singing us to sleep. Ahhhh" a sigh of gratitude and peace.
Just then I heard a wrestling in the bushes and Kipchoge's voice yelling down at us, "Hey! Mayo is chasing skunks! Put him on a leash!"
"Haaaggghhhh," a sigh of "Fuck."
I get mayo and he smells like shit. Not only does he smell like shit, but I now have to sleep with him leashed to me and smelling like shit.
But still, if that's the worst thing I gotta deal with, I'll take it.

The next morning I woke up with a bottle of BBQ sauce in my face.
Kipchoge said, "Here, this'll get the skunk off of Mayo."
I put on my bathing suit and we go for a swim in the river. I bathed Mayo in BBQ sauce ("ok?") and myself not in BBQ sauce and we headed up the river bank to the main camping area. (No, the BBQ sauce doesn't work). Everyone was busy packing up and I thankfully manage to secure a ride up the mountain. There is no freakin way I'm ridin up that shit, HELL no!
I made it back to the bus long before everyone else and enjoyed some chill time napping on a blanket outside on the ground. Eventually everyone made it back and we spent most of the afternoon arranging the bus and waiting in the heat and dirtiness of dry northern California for Kipchoge to once again "fix the bus." We finally get going around three or so and make our way through beautiful Yosemite. And man is it beautiful.

I recommended that we stop at the next big hole of water and we did. I can't remember what the name of the lake was but it was awesome. We swam and cleaned the dirt and sweat from the afternoon's labor off. I have found that these types of experiences, involving cool water and no dirt on my skin, are crucial to my happiness and will have to be sought out daily whenever there are no showers within 400 miles.

We spent the entire night and next day driving. Well, Kipchoge and Jared spent the entire night and next day driving. I spent the entire night and next day somewhere between sleeping and being jostled around by Milly to the point where my brain didn't know exactly what was happening anymore. Brock spent the entire night and next day somewhere between sleeping and tripping on "way too much" LSD. Yeah. That's Brock. Made for some great entertainment.


By the time we arrived in Denver it was probably 10 PM or so. I have no idea because all I did was lift my head as Jared slipped into the bus bed beside me and I asked, "Where are we?"
He said, "Denver."
I laid my head back down on my pillow and passed the * out.