Daily Archives: April 5, 2011

Princess of … Pedals?

Maybe I should start calling this blog Princess of Pedals because as of late all I’ve been writing about are cycling endeavors, and today is no different. Well, maybe a little different. I’m not actually writing about my time on the trainer, or about cycling through the streets of Vancouver, but I am writing about the drool that almost always dribbles down my chin at the mere thought of My Bianchi. Le sigh.

Folks, I want a new bike. Storm’s been great for me, but he was a starter bike, and it’s high time I acquired a much more advanced, and oh-so-sexy, pedal pusher by way of My Bianchi, Miss Bianchi if you will, Bianchi Infinito Dama 105 to be exact, which in English translates into “Lady in White.” Even her name is so super sexy! And she’s Italian too, which uhm hello is so perfect for me given that I’m like half Italian, okay not even a quarter, but I’m married to a guy with an Italian name, and I sometimes pretend I’m Italian, so that’s got to account for something right. Right.


I’ve been drooling over Bianchis for a good three or four years now, ever since I first dabbled with the notion of becoming a cyclist, but the idea of forking over that much money for a bike when I didn’t even know if I’d like the sport didn’t make sense to me at the time. It does now. I want one. I have to have one. I will get one. But here’s the thing, so far in my search it appears that nowhere, not anywhere, zero, nada, zilch, sells My Bianchi in B.C. What the F?

Mario and I went bike browsing on the weekend to a couple of new bike shops in Vancouver and West Vancouver. And while they had Giant and Look and Willier and Pinarello (another Italian brand) and even Ridley, the original Flanders bike, they did NOT have My Bianchi.

It doesn’t help that Mario just got himself a fancy schmancy new Lappierre frame. I got some serious bike envy going on!


  • 5 p.m. BG before: 8.6 (granola bar 1/2 bolus)
  • Temp. basal: -60 per cent for 1 hour
  • Time: 50 minutes; 10 minutes with the belt, 40 without***
  • 6:30 p.m. BG after: 8.4
  • Temp. basal: +40 per cent for 1.5 hours

Before heading to the pool tonight, I requested the pool gods be kind on me. I asked them ever so politely (okay maybe I called them disgusting and icky, but whatever) to please keep away the old dude’s picking at their toe jam, and the athletes feet from trying to attack my feet, and the invisible germs from crawling up my butt. I don’t think I was really asking for much, but do you think they could appease me? Nope. Instead of toe jam guy, I got Creepy McCreepersville hanging out in the deep end, and when he wasn’t there, he was submerged onto the bottom of the pool as I jogged overhead. Now, I know I’m not exactly up on pool etiquette, and I know that I’m in the slow lane, but regardless, don’t you think if it’s a lane swim, you should be moving more than not? And the whole hanging out on the bottom of the pool, with goggles on, makes me think you’re looking in places you shouldn’t be looking. Just saying…

And then there was the lifeguard slowly putting rubber gloves on her hands like a border guard about to do a cavity search. And when you’re already freaked out of the germs, the last thing you want to see or think about is why she’s putting those rubber gloves on – with a grimace on her face no less!  Needless to say, my focus and resulting form were a little off tonight.

In other news, I’m going for a run tomorrow. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!