I’m excited to announce that I am returning for a second year with Vanderkitten Racing, a team all about women kicking ass – on the bike, as well as in life. The team is based in Northern California, near San Francisco, so that’s where I’ll be based through mid-April or so, followed by visits to other parts of the US over the coming six months.
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| Vanderkitten 2014: Fiona, Amy, Korina, Miranda, Kate, Elle, Liza, Tiffany (missing: Gillian, Sophie, Emily, Jeannie) |
Twelve incredible women comprise the Vanderkitten team this year, with riders from the US,Canada, New Zealand, and
Australia. We’re decked out with the best kit in the peloton thanks to Vanderkitten
founder and designer Dave Verrecchia and Pactimo
clothing. Vanderkitten T-shirts and cycling kit are available for purchase
from Vanderkitten.com. We’ll be racing
on Colnago bikes and rolling the top
wheels out there from Chicago-based wheel builder Rob Curtis at PSIMET Custom Wheels.
At present I’m in San Salvador for
two weeks racing the Vuelta a
El Salvador along with five VK teammates. Unfortunately, as racing
kicks off, I am sidelined by a nasty flu. Apparently 50 hours of travel in
eight days is a bit much for the immune system. With the capacity of my body’s defences
exceeded, I am getting an exceptional core workout from an excessive (and
painful) amount of coughing as my body struggles to expel whatever vile bug is harbouring
there. Thus, my initial challenge of the tour is a critical one: to avoid infecting
my teammates with my germs.
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| Ready to board the plane to San Salvador with our awesome Zuca bags. |
And so, it would seem that all the
planning and preparation in the world is no match for the unpredictability of
life. In addition the stresses of to travel and harried preparations for six
months overseas, no doubt a few others things have contributed to my overload:
the death of my grandfather in November, and the decision to leave my job at
the Cawthron Institute last month. But most of all the sudden and unexpected
loss of my brother last month has been exceptionally shock. No planning in the
world prepares us for these sorts of life events, and the reality is that only
time will heal the grief – but it is the support of friends and family that
help us through.
For this reason, I include here a heartfelt
thank you for all the love and support that my family has received in the past month.
At the request of several friends, I include my eulogy to Dan below. Check
back for more about El Salvador in my next blog in a couple weeks. Or, to
receive an email notification whenever I update my blog, enter your email
address in the box labelled ‘follow by email’ on the top right of my blog page http://jeanniescookies.blogspot.com/.
Eulogy for Dan Kuhajek
Thank you all for being here today – for coming out to help us remember Dan, and to celebrate his life. Dan was my big brother. We were just shy of two years apart, so we were pretty close growing up.
As such, Dan was my first friend – and something of a guardian in my early years. He taught me the ropes in my first years of life, and perhaps only in a way that other younger siblings can understand – and most likely in a way that Dan had no clue – he is a huge part of who I am.
Dan had a special gentle hardness about him. He had a certain way of convincing me to believe in myself in a way that only an older brother could. He wasn’t outwardly encouraging – that wasn’t Dan’s style – but never cruel either. Just quietly convincing. Convincing me that I could do things I didn’t think I could. I think it’s safe to say that he touched many others throughout his life in this way as well.
Dan always had a huge fascination with how things work, and was always a very hands-on investigator. Growing up in the ‘70’s, back when TVs had multiple knobs and buttons, I remember my dad had to build a special mock control panel to place over the dials so the Dan could tinker away, spinning the multiple brightly colored dials and knobs, without messing up the television set.
Whenever we went somewhere new, Dan would spend time investigating all the hardware in the place – especially in older houses – pulling drawer handles and turning door knobs, finding dials to spin and buttons to push. He had a certain boldness to his curiosity and one time managed, at a very young age – perhaps 3 or 4 – to find the stop button on the escalator at Woodfield Mall, bringing shoppers to a halt for a short time. I think, while many children that age would have been frightened by the ensuing commotion, Dan had a certain satisfaction in his discovery.
Dan also loved building things. We spent hours as kids building forts. Thirty-five years ago, in 1979, Crystal Lake had a winter similar to this one, with endless amounts of snow and cold. I remember my dad cut steps into the snow outside the front door so that Dan and I could scramble on top of it all. Dan made the most amazing snow forts that year, working endlessly in the freezing cold – long after I had gone inside to get warm – digging out the big pile at the end of the drive, packing the walls to make them sturdy and solid.
We built ceaseless forts inside, as well. We had cardboard bricks – which we also used to stack up in the door to block my mom from the laundry room which doubled as our playroom – lots of old cushions, and piles of blankets and pillows. Dan’s forts were always amazing and solid. I would generally hang out with Dan in his fort instead of mine, so much cooler were his. It’s really no wonder that he went on to do a degree in construction, using his skills to keep building wonderful things into adulthood.
Dan had a certain optimism and confidence in him that is well illustrated by where he kept his camera stored – in his tackle box. Dan spent a lot of time fishing and later hunting – passions that also began early on. My dad, Dan, and I spent many hours exploring the lakes at Moraine Hills State Park. Or during the summers, while my mom taught tennis in Dundee, we’d spend hours fishing in the Fox River. I think Dan recognized that I didn’t really enjoy fishing, but rather, that I thought I should enjoy it because he did. Whether he did it intentionally or not, I don’t know, but he always helped me find other things to do like helping him seek out arrowheads in the water at Moraine Hills – we never found any real ones – or sending me off to get ice cream from the Dairy Queen down the road in Dundee. Sometimes even sending me back for a second ice cream of a different flavor.
It’s difficult to sum up anyone in words, least of all Dan who was a man of few words. In my mind, I only ever see him smiling – or else smirking in his special way. Underneath it all, Dan had a truly gentle heart. Dan, in a quiet way, your life touched so many. No words can convey how much I will miss you – how much we will all miss you.
