Bikes! Dirt! Hot Flashes!

Last weekend, I described my cancer experience as being a filter between the old and new normal.  If nothing else, this disease gives us the opportunity (and down time) to take a look at our lives and decide what we want to bring through from the old life into the new life.

My first "in with the old" is my grand tradition of being overcommitted to things that I'm really excited about. I've taken on a new major volunteer project.  This year OBRA (the Oregon Bicycle Racing Association) is developing a cyclocross series for high school clubs.  I agreed to be the Grand Master High School Cyclocross Regional Coordinator for the Portland Metro area.   The goal for 2010 is to get some high school 'cross clubs up and running and get the infrastructure set up for bigger and better things next year.  I'm sort of bossy, so this is a good project for me. Our first meeting is tonight, which gives me approximately 5 hours to get the hell over the fact that I hate talking in front of crowds.  Must tell myself to remember this is about getting kids on bikes, not about my public speaking neurosis.

I've also decided to ride, and fund raise for, the Echelon Gran Fondo on September 26.    Go here to donate.  I promise that the proceeds will benefit Livestrong and the OHSU and Mid-Columbia Cancer Centers, not the "Lindsay Needs to Purchase a Race Bike Before February 2011 Campaign." 

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I did my first post-cancer race last night.  The season finale at the Portland Short Track Series.  I wanted to do the team relay, which required that I do my category race earlier in the evening.  My plan was to do two laps, then drop out.  But two laps went by and I was not last.  In fact, I was passing people.  Competitive nature overrode common sense and I finished the race.  I forgot how hard short track is, especially when one is as aerobically un-fit as I am right now, but it was so fun. 

You know what this means...the return of the race report!!!  I'll put that together tomorrow and you can marvel in now I managed not to crash and in how it only took six months for my team jersey to become unacceptably and inappropirately tight fitting. 

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And, oh yeah, I finished chemo.  Did you hear that?  Shall I say it louder?  I AM ALL DONE WITH CHEMO BITCHEZ.  And thank god for that, really.  Because I am hot-flashing like a maniac and don't know how I'd be able to deal with much more of the sleep deprivation that is caused by waking up every hour of every night feeling like someone has placed my head in a convection oven. I did read last week that the hot flashes caused by chemo can last months after treatment is done, but, for my own sanity, I'm ignoring this possibility.  WAKE UP OVARIES. 

I have already started radiation.  Three down, 28 to go.  The treatments themselves aren't that bad, but I haven't seen any side effects yet. Other than the unusual side effect of than wanting to stab myself in the eye with a pencil each time I think about commuting out to St. My Cousin Vinnie's EVERY DAY FOR SIX WEEKS. 

I'm going to need a twelve step program for Beaverton overdose by the time all of this is over with.