Jessica Prinner Cycling

I feel like today has been the longest day of my life.  I rolled out of bed at 6:00 am sharp (well, maybe not that sharp seeing as though I need my 10-15 minute lay-in-bed-like-a-dead-body time) and quickly remembered that in roughly nine hours I would be in San Jose, California.  This journey began like many others before it (the car ride to the airport, the checking in of the bags, the enormous effort to extract any form of I.D. from the depths of my luggage, ect.) yet I knew it  have its distinguishing points.  First of those was the mere coincidence of running into one of my classmates at the airport!  And not only that, but he was going on the same flight as me!  What are the chances???  So at least I had someone to talk to as my parents continued to buy me more and more food for the flight.  By the time we actually boarded the plane, I had enough food to last me my entire week in San Jose.  Fortunately I gave some of my stock pile to my classmate so that I could make it through the airplane door, and so he would be able to survive locking himself in his room for several days in order to avoid his relatives, who he happened to be visiting in San Jose.

I had been to California several times in my life (which means two) and I can never get over just how sunny and warm it is.  It’s like Illinois on anti-depressants.  I remember how the first time I went to California I couldn’t believe they actually had palm trees.  In my mind, palm trees are reserved for Hawaiian scenes or Christmas haters.  So as I got off the plane I had to squint my eyes at the extreme brightness of California, and asked if it could tone it down a little.  I found my host housing host waiting patiently as he held a card that said “Jessi Prinner” as I descended an escalator, like a scene you only see in movies.  I guess there is a little bit of truth to Hollywood after all.  Maybe if you travel the world enough and see all there is to see, then you’ll discover that Hollywood movies are all actually based on real life events, and were simply inspired by what someone somewhere had experienced.  Of course, there’s always the exception of Disney productions because they’re all just stoned. 

Well anyway, I quickly settled into my new house for the week, which happens to be owned by some real avid cycling fans (thank heavens, I don’t think I would be able to survive that long with people asking me if I wear goggles when I ride, how far do  I bike a week, if I’m going to race in the Tour de France, etc).  I’m definately psyched up for this cycling camp (I probably should have mentioned earlier that that was why I came) because it is a mixture of road and track cycling and only women between the ages of 13 and 26 were invited.  About 14 of the best women cyclists in the nation have gathered in San Jose, California to participate in a budding program that will span over a period of about five years.  The camp director (who also happens to be the director of the Olympic cycling team that went to Beijing) called a group meeting at the vintage winery that is owned by my hosts, which is a bit ironic considering most of us were under the drinking age.  The winery was an extremely old building that used to serve as a temple for a group of monks back in the day, and is set atop a hill with a winding road leading to the top.  Of course, me being the cyclist I am I couldn’t help but visualize what an amazing climb it would be from the bottom to the winery.  Maybe we’ll get to ride up it one of the days during camp. 

Yeah, that’s my kind of vacation.

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