Self-pity days are what your union fought for.

Dear Diary,


13.  So I guess I'm doing a triathlon on Saturday.  I was actually feeling pretty good about not having a ride to the Chile Harvest triathlon this weekend.  Outwardly I was all, well darn it, I guess I'll have to miss it. And inwardly, looking forward to A Day of Sloth, as well as not humiliating myself in front of hundreds, given that
A) I haven't been in a pool during 2011, and
B) I have been on a bike once, and I've ridden 10 miles total, on a flat bike path, during 2011.

Police were posted at all trailheads, including this one near
my house.  

The Chile Harvest triathlon, you may recall, is the scene where, two years running now, I have done the bike portion WITH MY BRAKES ON and then struggled on the run which, I might add, occurs in temperatures upwards of 90 degrees.  It's the state team championship.  All the New Mexico Outlaws, the multi-sport team of which I am a member, go in full Outlaws regalia.

So, but, then I made the mistake of posting publicly on the New Mexico Outlaws message board that I wasn't going to be attending because my ride (Captain Baboo) has guard duty that weekend.  No sooner had I done that then the club president, herself  Dreadpirate Rackham, emailed me at work and said basically, oh no you don't missy and added some other stuff I can't quite remember.  "Your complacent ass" was in there; I remember that.

In the very center of the picture at top is some tall TV
antennas.  Can't see them?  That's how high
it is.  And THAT'S where the finish line is.  

12. Then, the next day, at 6 am. I'll be doing a foot race that goes from around 6200 feet up to 10,400 feet over 9 miles..."race" being a very loosely used term here, but after all, you get that "finisher" shirt at the finish whether you're first or last.  They do not allow earphones, given that it's a fairly narrow trail up the mountain, so I guess I'll sing to myself to keep me company.  That'll also keep the bears away.  Trust me you haven't heard me sing.  Win-win.  

Blonde.  With an E.

What makes this race even more interesting (other than the ass-busting altitude climb and the fact that I get all drama queen with gray-blue fingernails and gasping at high altitude) is that I didn't have much of a chance to do a lot of practicing on La Luz this year, owing to the fact that for a sizable chunk of my training period the trails were all closed (see picture, above) and THANK GOODNESS they opened them up just in time for me to humiliate myself TWICE in one weekend.

11.  Wednesday, I
took a SELF-PITY day (it's in your human resources manual.  Go check) and went and spent Groupons.

9. I also decided to be a blonde again. That's BLONDE.  With an e. Because I'm worth it.  And yes, I used a Groupon.

8. I will be meeting the head of behavioral health for a local hospital soon to discuss my new internship placement.  A bit more about it: It is in a local hospital.  Both of our largest hospitals here have acute psychiatric wards, which is where you go if it is determined that you, due to a mental disorder, are an immediate danger to yourself or others.
Note: Acute psychiatric wards are not for you to threaten your teenager with or to take your kid to because she throws temper tantrums.  They will be sent home, and you will have lost ground in the war against bad behavior.

As you well know, I lurves me some crazy people.  We'll see if that holds up after 9 months spending two days a week in an acute psychiatric ward.

7.  Wednesday's Pity Party slothful day of indulgence, courtesy of Groupon, was fab.  Got my nails done, got my toenails done (I pretended to be asleep to avoid the inevitable questions about missing or half-grown-in toenails).  I got a massage.  Then I ate cake.  YES, CAKE. I'VE HAD A TOUGH COUPLE OF WEEKS.

One of the pairs I bought.  

6.  I also bought some shoes on Ebay, so, I'm all healed now.  And yes, I am that easy. If you're a man, you don't want someone more complicated than that.  If you're a woman, you don't want to be more complicated than that.  I like to stick to the same thing, over and over and over.  For work shoes, I like Aerosoles, Clarks, and Indigo by Clarks.  For fun shoes, I like Naughty Monkey.

And no, they aren't wedges.  I think wedges are ugly.  I don't care who that offends.  They're frankenshoes.  So there.

5.  Text message from Daughter:
I had to block [roommate] from facebook.  
She has decided to hate me this week.

Hmm.  What to reply?
What'd you do - eat all her food?
Have you run her her long distance bill yet?
Is she sick of cleaning up after you yet?


In the end, I went with   Oh, my, girl drama.  Hope it all works out.

Taken in our back yard about two weeks ago.

4. It is officially "Monsoon Season" in New Mexico.  I talk about this every year, but here it is again: Monsoon season is a time during the year when, in the afternoons, the sky fills with dark, threatening clouds.  The wind blows, sometimes lightening starts fires up on the mountain, and there is a hell of a lot of noise that scares the shit out of my dog.
Sometimes it rains.

3. In the past two days, I've slept about 18 hours.  That's so not like me.  I feel like I could sleep more.  I suspect a creeping depressive reaction to the VA debacle.  Maybe not.

2. I'm really pissed that one of my Italian cypress trees out front apparently took a serious hit this past winter and has dead spots on it.  I always wanted some of these, and now I have them, and now it has dead spots.  I know that's a very minor thing to complain about, but it annoys the hell out of me.

1. Sweet Baboo feeds birds.  We spend a third-world family's annual salary on bird seed.  We have about a 1/3 of an acre, so there's lot of birds.  We also have a large pond.  Most of them are natives - mourning doves, finches, quail, and so on.  Anyway.  Some of them are pigeons.  At any given time, there is a large number of birds at the north end of our back yard, pecking away at the ground, looking for some of that seed.
The end result is this: in addition to all the other things that are cool about the Dream House, whenever I walk into the back yard - either from the driveway coming home or from the house, leaving - a large flock of birds rises in a mass ascension in a cloud of wings, and the end result is that every day I feel like I'm in my very own romantic movie set in Italy - you the know the scene where they run through the square, hand-in-hand, disrupting a flock of birds.  EIther that or Mary Tyler Moore.  Either way, it's kinda cool.

...

Me, Mr. Junk, and the bike. A real live cautionary fairy tale.

Today I did the Socorro Chile Harvest triathlon, and it has become my favorite annual debacle. They gave us a water bottle and nice bag. Pictures to come. 

The seeded swim is nice. It spreads out the course, and you can chat while waiting your turn.  I was going to relax on the swim, but directly in front of me was an extremely hairy man swimming with extremely loose and baggy shorts.  He was also one of those people whose legs just go all over instead of staying in a line while they swim, and so every time I looked forward, I had a nice full view of--well, It. Them. You know.

After two lanes of this, I had to pass him.  HAD TO.  If I tore a rotator something or sprained my shoulder--as gawd is my witness, I was going to pass Mr. Junk.  So, we were swimming about the same speed--me, him, and his junk--but I started kicking my legs harder and dug in to pass him.

The swim then felt okay, but I was getting breathless, and this is my punishment for being in the water exactly 4 times this year: when I got out, I was completely disoriented, running off to the right instead of in a straight line, like I was drunk.  I staggered over to the bike rack, slowly--oh, so slowly--dried my feet, etc., and headed out on the bike. 

You wouldn't think that I could pull this off AGAIN, but you forget who I am, for Behold: 

Once again I did a sprint triathlon. With my brakes on. 

After 10 miles on this course, I'd been passed by nearly everyone, including a 10-year-old girl in thick glasses riding a squeaky old mountain bike somewhat shakily, her knobby knees going out to the side with every upstroke as she peddled crazily away from me, up the hill.  My speedometer wasn't working, so I had no idea of how fast I wasn't going, and I didn't realize what was wrong until the bike course was nearly done.  

Instead, until then, I felt awful.  This is what I get for not getting in the saddle enough.  DP was right.  I tried peddling harder, but it didn't work.   I should never have done that 9 mile run yesterday, I thought.  This is my punishment for not taking this event more seriously. 

Then a friend of mine, Courtney, who I love to death, passed me--she quickly moved ahead and away from me, which normally she does not do in a race.  "What's wrong with you?" she tossed over her shoulder.

I pulled over, lifted up my back wheel, and it wouldn't move.  My brakes weren't just rubbing, they were fully engaged.  I couldn't move the wheel with my hand.  I tried prying the brake pads away from the wheel--they wouldn't budge.  I banged on the wheel with my fist to try to get them to pop loose--wasn't happening.

Finally, I just disconnected them completely, flipping the lever up and pulling them away from the wheel.  Meanwhile, between attempts to get them loose, I'd been shaking my bike and swearing at it.  This is the best thing to do to a mechanical thing with loose parts.  As for the swearing, it wasn't like anyone was going to hear me; everyone else had finished the race, even the nearsighted 10 year-old with the knobby knees.  (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) 

Obviously, while I was shaking the bike and swearing at it, the chain came completely off.  Obviously, that had to be fixed.

Well, and then I could ride a bike, don't you know.  It rolled smoothly.  Hills were easy.  All 2 miles of them, Dammit.

I came into transition steaming mad, and said to everyone that was unfortunately enough to be standing near me as I prepared for the run, I HATE CYCLING, AND EVERYTHING ABOUT IT, and, THERE IS JUST NOT ENOUGH TO SAY ABOUT HOW MUCH I HATE CYCLING.  

And then, 

• I put on my shoes that never get flats.  
• I grabbed my hat that never breaks down.  
• I picked up my water bottle that never needs a tune-up.

Then I sprinted out of transition to the run course, and had a pretty good run.  I don't know what yet.  I'll find out tomorrow.  Sweet Baboo joined me on my run for what was his third lap of the run.  He ran extra laps after he finished the triathlon, in the mid-nineties heat just because and yes, he is that much of a freak.  Some of the people who passed me on the bike, I passed back on the run.  But not all of them, and not enough of them.  I did not meet my goal for this race, obviously.

I'm pretty sure at this point that the people I only see at this triathlon are thinking to themselves, this can't have happened twice.  I bet she really is slow, but embarrassed and made this up.  Nobody is that stupid.  Poor Misty.  Poor dear sweet, silly, slow, Misty.
 
Stupid bike.

Now, time for a reframe.  Reframes are my attempt to get the positive out of any crappy situation.  My reframe is this:

1) I must some pretty strong legs at this point to have pulled this off.  I think I managed about 12 mph with my brakes fully engaged.  That's gotta mean something, right?  I mean, other than I'm a complete idiot for not checking my bike before the race.  But honestly, who thinks that a ride in a car is going to mess up a bike that bad?  They were perfect the night before. 

2) for all the sprint triathlons I've done with my brakes on (3 or 4, I think) I think I might have had a brakes-on triathlon PR.

3)  Now that I've set the bar for my actual PR on this course pretty low, next year it should be pretty easy to best my time.  It will be a dramatic difference; people will gasp in awe, and I will not remind them that, well, after all, I did it without my brakes on this year.  

Okay. I was supposed to run 6 more miles today, and then 20 tomorrow.  As far as I'm concerned, I get credit for 25% of any bike toward my run.  That is my completely unscientific and arbitrary heuristic. So this afternoon, I'll get about 3-4 miles in. 

Next year.
Next year will be the year I show up and do the triathlon without my brakes on.

I'll show 'em.  I'll show 'em all. 

...

Feet Au Gratin

Last winter when I couldn't run for months and tried speed-walking instead I developed very weird, tough callouses on the balls of my feet, especially my right foot. This callous is so tough that it wears through all my socks--only my right sock--and now all my socks have holes in them right there. It was so big that it was throwing off my gait.

When did I get so asymmetric?

When I finally did start running and walking long distances again, I started developing blisters UNDER this huge, weird callous, because it's so tough and inflexible that it stays in place while my feet move over it, causing a blister to form UNDER it. After last long run, I decided, enough is enough.

So I bought one of those egg-shaped callous shavers from the cosmetics section at WalGreens and took it home. Once I got it out of the package, I recognized it for what it was: It's a cheese grater for your feet.

Now - before I hear girlie squeals like Oh Misty that's so dangerous you can really eff up your feet with that I want to say: too late. I've already used it. In fact, I deliberately waited until I saw the results to write about it.

I used it carefully, cautiously, conservatively, waited a week, ran a marathon, and then waited another week before posting about it. I'm fine. My feet are fine. I was nothing if not very conservative in using this thing. I followed all the directions and was careful, and so far have had no problems. A LOT of stuff came off. I wasn't sure what to do with it. I mean...I'm into recycling, but, there's a limit. I tossed it.

So, if you're so inclined, there it is. A cheese grater for your feet.

...

Everyone has a bad day, even the ones who were already slow. A race report

I had a warning that things were not going to go well this weekend when I did a 1.8 mile run Thursday night that wore me out. My legs felt heavy, and I was puzzled, but didn't worry about it.

So the Socorro Chili Harvest Triathlon. This is a fabulous little sprint in Socorro, New Mexico. It is usually unpleasantly hot on the run. This year, it was very nice, cooler and breezy. It's well-supported, lots of great volunteers, food at the end, nice hardware and shwag. It's an athlete-friendly race that I highly recommend.

Let's take a look at my historical performance on this race, shall we?

2006: 1:38:10.8 Swim, 9:38; T1, 2:17; Bike, 47:32; T2, 1:08; Run, 37:38 No place.

2007: 1:36:12.5 Swim, 6:40; T1, 1:13; Bike, 53:20; T2, 1:02; Run, 34:00 3rd place(2007 was a different venue)

2008: 1:35:20.8 Swim, 9:27; T1, 2:13; Bike, 47:23; T2, 1:48; Run, 34:31 3rd place

2009: 1:45. Bike was somewhere around 53 mintues, I think. Run was around 36 minutes. I did not place.

Yes, that's right. I managed to add 10 minutes to my time this year. I felt horrible, and couldn't get moving, and finished far behind several people I've usually managed to beat.

After the swim, which is about 400 meters in a pool, I hit the bike, and my legs said, oh, no, you don't. They were heavy on the bike and refused to cooperate with my orders to pedal, damn you and by the time I got to the run, I had nothing left to give. I finished the race on sheer will power, dragging my big-assed self across the finish line and collapsing to the curb.

NOW, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, Misty, how can I be just like you, how can I make myself even slower, by at least ten minutes in a sprint?

I've talked to several people, including Andie, a personal trainer and coach, whose first question was, "how's your nutrition"? and several educated, experienced triathletes. Ummmmm....

So here's what you do:

1) Make sure you are calorie deprived in some sort of insane one-thousand-calorie-a-day diet in the three weeks prior to the race. Now, you MUST do this for two weeks to get the full, running-in-molasses affect. Recall that I did very well two weeks ago at a high-altitude sprint. The diet hadn't worked it soul-sucking magic yet. YES, I read the advice. but of course, like a lot of stupid people, I just knew it didn't apply to me...

2) Make sure you do #1 while you're also training for an Ironman, so that you completely deplete (and don't replenish) your muscle glycogen stores.

3) Fool yourself into thinking that you can severely deplete your body in this way and make up for it by eating a normal breakfast 3 hours prior to the race.

There you go. Follow that advice, and by race day, you'll be all ready to lose.

Geesh, I'm dumb.

...

Another >yawn< Weight Loss/Dieting Resolution.

Happy 2009! I've been too busy to make New Year's resolutions, so I've got some general goals. here they are:

1) Finish my first 50-miler.

2) Do 10 pushups. In a row (Yeah. Um, well, that was the resolution last year, and I got pretty close but then I got distracted and quit and am now back to a soft, noodly upper body. Perhaps, to punish myself, I'll make it 20. And video it.)

3) Still not eating chlorella. Or swimming in it, either.

4) OMG, I've gained enough weight during injury recovery and new job transition crap to have actually started developing a double chin! AND, my clothes don't fit! AND, my knees hurt when I run! AAAGGGGHHHHH!!!

Okay. Breathe.

Accordingly...

First, I did a 4-mile power racewalk/hike with a tiny bit of jogging on New Year's day (Go, Me!) and one on New Year's eve, and I finally feel like my cardiovascular self is back to normal. I'm living at 6000 feet, which helps, I think, and I've been working on these trails a couple times a week all during December.

Of course, now that my tibia thing has healed, I'm having ITB issues. OH, HELLOOO MR. LEFT ITBAND. I THINK I MET YOUR BROTHER, RIGHT ITBAND LAST YEAR AT THIS TIME?

Fuckers.

Still, I did the hikes averaging under the pace I need to finish at the Ghost Town next week NEXT WEEK NEXT WEEK, OMG!! But best of all, it's a doable sub-hour 4-mile trail hike/run loop right by my house . I LOVE having a known routine so that I can just get moving and zone out.

Second, I've noticed that I eat less without Mini-Baboo around. I think it's because of the creeping worry that, 'OMG, I HAVE TO EAT NOW BECAUSE THERE MIGHT NOT BE ANY FOOD LEFT SOON' that's been persistant in my life since my oldest child learned to open a refrigerator back in oh, 1986. (And you're not allowed to put locks on the refrigerator. I've asked.)

Third, I've joined The Challenge.

DP did this in 2002 or so, and since becoming My Official Dieting Boss Lady last year, DP often calls me up to tell me about such things. Usually, I hem and haw and give all manner of excuses, but not this is the jump start I need to get some of those pounds off that I gained during October and November while waiting for my tibia to heal.

I know that the extra muscle will help me in ultrarunning - I found that out at Palo Duro after doing 6 weeks of core work; it made a HUGE difference in how I felt after running 31 miles. Plus, as DP says, it's got accountability built into it, and you can get "free" information from professional nutritionists. Um, excuse me, I'm a strict vegetarian ultra runner - can you help me out with the whole carb thing?

Not to be outdone, of course (who wants a wife that can beat them up?) Sweet Baboo will be doing it with me.

It involves before (shudder) and after photos, skin fold tests, and weigh-ins.

As one famous blogger I know says, "Stay Tuned..."

...

The following is offered as consolation for those who think they're dumber than me.

So, Tiger Lily and I are cycling on Old Route 66 east of Albuquerque and we're headed back in, and at one point she motions to a fork in the road ahead. "See where it splits over there? We're going to the left."
Left. She said LEFT.
She said it loudly, and clearly.

"Okay," I said. Because I had heard her, loudly and clearly, say LEFT.

And here's what my brain decided, as it listened to her and looked at the split in the road, was:
We're going THIS way.because this way is left.

Yeah.

So I took off - I was in the zone......speeding along, legs pumping, and I headed right at the split, just like my brain said to do, I was thinking, "this must lead up over to Tramway Road."

Then, Holy. Cow. I was thinking, as several cars and motorcycles went by me at a high rate of speed.
There is a LOT of traffic out today, I thought, as I sped up. The road became beautiful, clean, and even.

What a great road, I thought as I sped along on the nice, clean, even shoulder surface.

A semi sped by me, leaving a gusting wake.

Goodness! why, this road is practically a FREEWAY!

Just then, my phone rang.

Annoyed, I reached for it. At first, I couldn't quite make out what she was saying, from the noise of the traffic.

Then I finally heard it, "YOUR OTHER LEFT! COME BACK!
YOU'RE ON THE FREEWAY!"

oH. $#it.

Which is what I almost did, when I realized where I was.

So, okay - if you did something really dumb today, or hell, this week, this might make you feel better.

No need to thank me. It's what I'm here for:

Miscellaneous Thursday Stuff.

I've started my off-season marathon training. I find myself in the position of having signed up for four marathons in four months. 'Cause that's the way I roll. Some say driven. Some just roll their eyes.

Tonight, I used the "workout mode" on my Garmin for the first time today. It was pretty easy to program, and I programmed in an interval workout as follows:
Five-minute warmup walk - Then this sequence repeated 3 times:

• Fast Jog 1/4 mile
• Fast Walk 1/8 mile
• Fast Jog 1/2 mile
• Fast walk 1/4 mile

"Fast jog" by the way, is what Msr. GarMEAN calls the pace I've been aspiring to.
Yep, I hauled ass, only to be nagged by Garmin, which sounds a little tinkling, trilling noise when you're going too slow, and flashes SPEED UP! briefly on the screen.

Obviously, I don't know what happens if you're going too fast (are you KIDDING?)

I liked training with GarMEAN, although it was another startling reminder that I really, really need bifocals. I just can't read anything close with my near-sighted glasses on anymore. I did manage about a 9:30 pace on a couple of those intervals, which is great, but I didn't realize it stopped recording my run immediately when the workout was over. Maybe that's a setting I can change, but I ran about a half mile before I realized it was no longer recording.

I also wore my new trail shoes today for the first time. They are what I can only describe as breathtakingly ugly.

As in, every time I look at them, they take my breath away and make me forget how tired I am, as I think, "Holy cow, those are some ugly shoes." But, they're pretty confortable.

Then it got very, very dark, and I couldn't see any more, so I kind of shuffled that last few miles back to my car. Oh, and because I had to listen for the Garmin, I ran without music.

Diet-wise, I've been a good girl this week, except for what I suspect was a moment of PMS weakness when a kid in my classroom showed up selling fundraising candy.

I just wanted to help out, you understand. So I did, a Reeses' and a Snicker's worth. Hey, the kid is trying to earn enough to go to Italy. What else could I do?

...

Stupid Triathlon Trick #14

Today's Stupid Triathlon Trick is, "Don't maintain your bike."

Remember yesterday when I talked about how hard it was to get my bike to shift properly? Yeah. Well, once stuff like that starts happening, it's usually a messge from above.

And that message is this:

"Get your bike tuned, stupid."

I ignored that message. I had a long ride today and figure I could squeeze one more bike ride out of the Rockette before taking it into the shop.

Of course, I discovered right away that this was going to be a small chain ring day. The bike simply would not switch onto the big ring, no matter how much I begged and threatened.

I can remember when that was all I needed.
Big chain ring? Pah.
That was only for going down hill.

But now, after all my practice rides I've actually made some, ya know, progress, and so today I was spinning at a really high cadence, for me, much more than I'm used to. Breathing heavy, but feeling good.
I was thinking that at least, this would be a chance to practice high cadence. For sixty miles. Oh, well. I've got my favorite bike shorts, cycling top, and hydration vest. Bring it on!

and god said, "HA!"

Suddenly, my foot was free. Frowning, I looked down at it. Had it slipped off the pedal? Unlikely. I have the tightest pedals in the world....usually takes much effort and swearing to get locked in and much effort to get unlocked as I coast to stops, just before I fall over.

I leaned over further. No, actually, the pedal was still firmly attached to my foot.

Yep, there they were, the pedal and crank arm.
Dangling from and attached to my bike shoe.
Not to the bike,

Hmmm. Pretty sure this is not one of those quick fix things, like, say, a flat.

I coasted to a stop, and Pirate took one look, and said, "Your ride is over." then she said, "I'd be pissed." I considered briefly whether no shifting and one pedal meant the ride was over, and then I had to admit that it was.

At first, I felt uber studly. I'd pedaled the crank right off my bike. BOOYAH!

But that soon gave way to regret. I'd neglected a friend. This is an example of a desperately uncared for Rockette, on whom I've put nearly 700 miles this summer with no tune up. Don't try this at home, kids.

We sent Pirate's Beloved and Sweet Baboo back for the car whilst we turned around and I pedaled one-legged for about 5 miles. Ever do ILT's? I used to grumble and grouse when the Jimmy made us do them. Today, I was thankful.

Occasionally, I had to shift my weight as ever more components began to complain about the neglect and more recent off-balanced pedaling and started acting crazy. Eventually the guys showed up with the car and we loaded the Rockette into it.

No bike shops open today. Of course, my training bike is still missing a wheel, so that's out.

No ride today.

... Boo.

Last Sprint for a While (race report)

Socorro Chili Harvest Sprint Triathlon was held today in Socorro, New Mexico. They had a change of venue for this year since the city was doing some work on the city pool, and used the pool on the campus of New Mexico Tech instead. I liked the new venue.

This is my last event before Ironman Louisville, which is two weeks from tomorrow.

I recommend this little race to anyone who wants to do a sprint. The bike course is a bit of a challenge, but not overwhelming. More importantly, the Socorro Striders and Riders, who put it on, are increadibly enthusiastic. The overall winners of this little sprint received Nambe chilis. I actually got to touch one...

This sprint starts with a seeded swim. The whole thing is timed by CCRTiming, and they've got this whole seeded swim thing down to a "T". My swim was slower than I've done it before, with an average pace of 2:37/100 meters compared to last year's pace of 2:35.

My T1 was faster than last year by over a minute. I attribute this to the fact that I no longer walk from the pool and then sit down while I dry off my feet, put on my socks, drink some juice, look around, think about life....

Instead, I now have *finally* worked my way into the ability to at least trot through transition, where I have my towel sitting with nothing on it. I stomp on it to dry my feet while I'm grabbing my helmet. Then I shove my feet into my shoes, sockless, grab my bike, and head for the exit running. Well, Okay. Trotting.

It also saves you time in T1 if you skip those little details, like grabbing your prescription sunglasses, or checking to see that your aerobottle is properly secured before you take off on the fairly bumpy bike course. Just a tip....

Well, luckily for me they had marked hazardous areas in the road. Big yellow chalk sawteeth even my nearsighted peepers can see, and how could I miss the the many enthusiastic volunteers waving and pointing with their whole bodies at the turns?

I felt like I was really pushing it, but it didn't show in the results: my average speed was a bit lower and my overall time on the 20K bike split was almost 6 minutes slower.

At T2, I dug into my transition bag and grabbed my sunglasses, put my running flats on, with no socks, and my hat, and took off running the mostly flat run. I felt pretty good, and kept a 10:50 pace, with is pretty momentous for me at the end of a triathlon. My pace was over a minute per mile faster than last year.

I was hoping to beat my nemesis, Karen, but alas, this was not to be, as she smoked me. Just. Smoked. Me.

I think she finished a full 9 minutes ahead of me. The enigmatic Lena S. showed up and beat us both, and then disappeared again, damnit, before awards. I still don't know what she looks like. Dammit, dammit, dammit!

Results:
Mini-baboo: 2nd place, 15-17 AG
Sweet Baboo: 1st place, Clydesdales. and that's with a taped calf. I'll let him tell you about that.
Me: 3rd place, Athena

I'm happy to report also that the Jimmy has changed my scheduled 110 mile bike ride tomorrow a 60 mile bike ride. Whew.

SW TriGirl was there. Dread Pirate was also there. You should go nag her until she posts a report. She'd like that.

Next event: Ironman Louisville on August 26th. The dread and nausea and worry have already begun, thanks very much.

Eep...

OH, one more thing. Like to give a shout out to Andie, who thought I was 10 years younger than I am. Ohhhhh, I feel so good...

...

A 40-mile ride, in 6 hours and 20 easy steps.

1. Starting at 10 am, prepare yourself for a 50 mile ride: get your frozen water bottles, sunscreen, and fig newtons, and put them in the car.

2. Search for your favorite Terry cycling tank for about 45 minutes: in the hamper, laundry room, where you keep your swim stuff and where you keep your running stuff, under the bed, in the closest, finally finding it exactly where it was supposed to be in the first place, with your cycling stuff. Go figure.

3. Get your training wheels so that you can use them instead of your race wheels. Except...one of your training wheels is flat.

4. Utter your favorite curse words.

5. Since you don't feel all that confident fixing a flat right before a 50 miler, take it down to the bike shop and ask them to throw a new tube on there. You might even get a couple gels while you're there. Except...you don't have the checkbook.

6. Utter your favorite curse words.

7. Drive back home to get the checkbook. Which cannot be found. On the way out, notice grab your helmet.

8. Return to the bike shop and dig through your wallet to get a couple gels and pay for a new tube.

9. Drive self, gear and bike down to the little park by the bike path.

10. Put training wheels on bike, bottles in bottle cages, and spray self with sun screen.

11. Try to ignore the van full of men in orange jumpsuits that are lunching, staring at you. Put away the thoughts that there's nobody else but you around...just you, and a panel van full of men doing community service.

12. There! You're ready to go. Except...you've left your bike shoes at home.

13. Utter your favorite curse words.

14. Take the bottles back off your flatwing, take the front wheel back off the bike, and put everything back in the car and drive back home, leaning forward so as not to get the wet sunscreen all over the car seat.

15. Get bike shoes, and decide to go back to a different parking spot. One not so full of guys in orange jumpsuits.

16. Drive down to a different park by the bike path, and begin your ride at noon.

17. Except...at mile 30, you notice ugly black clouds have now taken over the sky. Call Pirate at work and ask her what the Doppler radar looks like.

18. Based on Pirate's recommendation, turn the bike around, spending the last 10 miles of the ride heading into a stiff wind and watching the "average" speed on your Garmin drop precipitously.

19. Utter your favorite curse words.

20. Go home and take a nap.

Now, wasn't that easy?

...

Long Run Sundays

Yesterday I returned to my Sunday long runs at the church of the bosque trail. On the dockett: 16 miles. I hadn't run that far since, like, JANUARY.

I didn't think it would be easy. I didn't think it would be hard. I didn't know what to think, especially since my debacle at Show Low, where 13 miles, um, over 4 hours...and was more of a labored, painful TRUDGE than a run...

I'm still working on my nutrition, et cetera. So I loaded up my hydration pack with about 55 ounces of prepared Nuun, 45 which I consumed.

Then I got the brilliant idea of putting 8 ounces of Apple-cinnamon hammer gel, about 6 which I consumed (more on that in a moment) into a water bottle. Prior to my run, I drank half a 450-calorie bottle of HEED. About three hours before the run, I ate two servings of oatmeal and a fruit cup.

To make short work of this post, I'll fast foward to the lessons learned.

1. Ohhhhhhh, THAT'S why I never ran that particular section of trail. It's full of soft sandy spots. motherf.........

2. If you try to use a 8-ounce water bottle as a gel flask, you have to do something to the spout, because it's not meant to let something as viscous as gel go through it. After squeezing in vain, I finally unscrewed the lid and gulped it down every couple of miles.
Which brings me to number 3...

3. No matter how much you like a particular flavor of gel, if you gulp it down for three hours, you'll learn to hate it.

Hate. It.

4. There's even more large piles of horse manure on dirt trails than there is on the paved trail. How come dog owners have to scoop, but horse owners can leave large presents for the rest of us to trip over willy-nilly? It's just as gross; it's just a smelly, and it's just as unlikely to wash awake in the rain we don't often get in the desert.

Anyway, I did 15.2 miles, in about 3:22. I started out at 5:55 am, having learned a lesson from Pirate and her "running on the sun" experience recently ☀ It was gorgeous on the bosque pre-dawn. Quiet, peaceful, in the low sixties. Bunnies ran amok. It was in the upper eighties when I finished.

Today I rest from all things running and triathlon-like. My calf and a lot of my left leg is stiff from Saturday's race.

FYI: Sweet Baboo has fallen ill from some mysterious malady, and is home while I wait on him, feed him, and soothe his fevered brow. SHHHHHHHHHH. He's sleeping. He's such an angel when he sleeps...

By the way, any of you who are happy with fiddling with HTML, I found a place to get the codes to put symbols ☝ in your text. Go here: http://www.bigbaer.com/reference/character_entity_reference.htm

℘

Tires, Cycling, and the southwest.

Yesterday's flat was most likely caused by something called a "puncture vine" seed, also known as "Mexican sand bur." It's a noxious week that grows very well all over the place.

These pretty little vines put out little yellow flowers, and then they produce a small fruit. The fruit dries and produces four seeds known around here as "goatheads".

Goatheads have long, stiff thorns heading out in 2 directions, and they lay in a way so that no matter which ways it lands, there's one thorn sticking up. They're about 1/4 inch long. Seeds like this spread by getting caught in the fur of animals and being carried that way. They also blow around pretty well.

They are EVERYWHERE. I walked through the desert in a pair of lower-end sandals the other day, about 700 meters, and by the time I was done the entire bottom of each sandal was completely crusted with them. They covered the entire bottom.

Goatheads are otherwise known as "MOTHERF&$%R!" by the people dumb enough to walk around barefoot, or those who've flatted out for the second or third time when they've ignored the advice of the locals.

You see, the really great thing about living in Albuquerque is that is rarely rains here, so there's lots and lots of time to spend outdoors. We're a mile above sea level, which is good for training, and the humidity is fairly low, usually less than 20% but almost always less than 25%.

Last summer we had an unusual rainy season, and on some of the days the humidity was a whopping 50%. Boy, did we whine! We (meaning denizens of the Burque) walked around saying in our whiniest voices, "Oh, my gosh, it's just so HOT and so STICKY. Oh, my gosh, when will this end?" But anyway, I'm rambling.

Even the insane wind is not al that bad. It's good for training.

The bad thing about Albuquerque is the occasional sand storms and, of course, goatheads.

So we occasionally get people who are new to the area, people who like to run or do triathlon, and we remind them of three things:

1) Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate- this IS the desert!

2) you'll need about 500 spf sunscreen, and

3) you'll need some super thorn-resistant setup on your bike.

This usually involves a type of tire with Kevlar in it (Specialized Armadillos or Bontrager Hardcase), sometimes a thorn-proof liner, and some sort of sealant like Stans, that seals punctures and allows you to air up the tire again if it goes flat.

With this setup I've never gotten a flat.

When I bought my new bike, I was talked into getting something called Gatorskins. POP! PSSSSSSSSSSSS, a flat. As well, I didn't have any sealant in them. I did some searching, and read some cycling forums and there's a general consensus that Gatorskins may, indeed, be absolute crap.
So I will endeavor this week to replace the Gatorskins with some decent Kevlar tires.

Anyway, if you ever decide to do a race here, keep this post in mind. You may think you've got evil tire-puncturing things where you live? Well, maybe you do. They grow wild here.

You've been warned!

...

Bad Day. Pouting

Today was definitely

ONE. OF. THOSE. DAYS.

If you're reading this, you are the lucky recipient of my bitching and whining.

The goal: 70 mile training ride.

the result: 39 miles and some change, and a 2+ mile walk.

Here's why today sucked so utterly:

1. Flat wings suck. At least, mine does. My bottles bounced out about 6 or 7 times during the 31 miles I put in today. Then the yellow thingy that keeps my aerobottle from splashing HEED all over me fell out, and blew off the trail. I didn't want to put it, all dusty and stuff, back into the bottle, so I and my new bike were showered with HEED whenever I went over any little bump, which was often, until I finally just drank the whole thing down to be done with it.

2. I'm still hurting from last weekend. No, not my legs. Think higher. No, not my sit bones. Think slightly lower. This may be a new saddle issue. In any case, it remains a source of anger and frustration for me. I finally turned back at the 31 mile mark and told people to go finish with me as I was unable to maintain an aero position and couldn't see doing another 40 miles sitting bolt upright.

3. My first flat. Oh, how proud I was when I sat down to change it! 'Cause I know just how to to do that!

Except...

there's no tire iron. Okay, no tire iron - um, okay - I can use the rounded end of my key. My tubes are always filled with stans, anyway, so I'll use the cartrige to air it back up.

Except...okay, um they aren't filled with Stans today. I'll change the tube. Oh. I don't HAVE the right sized tube. Um, okay, I'll stick a 700 tube in there for a temporary fix to get me the 4-5 miles or so back to my car...

4. The jerk who made a U-turn in his SEMI, forcing me off the rode. he never saw me. I think he could have easily hit me and knocked me off the rode and never known it. A$$HO&E! He'd have been all like, "what was that bump? Ah, probably just some road debris." I've never known that kind of futile fury before...I wanted to clog down the road in my cycling shoes and throw handsful of gravel at him. Which he'd have never been aware of.


5. After I was forced off the road by the A$$HO&E, my jerry-rigged back tire immediately went flat again. >Sigh.<>

So I hoofed it. 2.7 miles. In my bike shoes.

I. Hate. Cycling.

Tomorrow I will run. On a trail. In my shoes. Which will not go flat.

Oh, and Did I mention I hate cycling?

...

Open mouth, insert foot.

Next up: Show Low, Arizona "Deuces Wild" triathlon festival, first weekend in June.
Originally, I was scheduled to do the Oly, somewhere far behind Pirate, with Sweet Baboo, newly-svelt-Helen-age-grouper and Stuey, aka "Mark Spitz" doing the 70.3 "Deuce-man."

Here's the Oly bike course:
When I first saw this, I nearly passed out. I was pissed, at Sweet Baboo, of course, what on earth was he thinking?

There's that one climb--see it? From mile 11 to 15?
It looks like I'm going to have to throw a grappling hook up before I start heading up that hill.

Does Kestrel even make an aero grappling hook to go on your bike?
Does it fit under the seat? Does it include a wench? I mean, WHAT THE HELL?

Then I stopped hyperventilating and actually looked at the numbers. I mean, it's 4 miles and 400 feet of climbing. That's 100 feet per mile. A 2% grade. Not as cool as something that's flat, but certainly nothing to get freaked about, I guess.
Stupid bike profiles. Why do they have to look so scary?

Now, here's the 10K run course:

Ulp. Now, after my initial freakout, I can see that this climbs 100 feet over 4 miles, which means it's a 0.5 grade.

So at this point I said blithely to Sweet Baboo,
"Gee, these don't look so bad now. I almost wish I'd signed up for the 70.3,"
I said that knowing that it's difficult to move UP in distances this close to a race.

And then Sweet Baboo was supposed to say, in a voice tinged with regret,
"Gosh, sweetie, it's too late now. I sure wish you'd said something sooner, then you could be going 70.3 miles instead of 33.9..."

and then I'd say something like, "Well, I'll know better next time, right?" and then mosy my way through another Oly, hanging out at the finish line waiting for the three of them to come in.
But instead, he said, cheerfully, "Well, if you really want to, I'm sure it can be switched." Then he immediately set about emailing the race director, in order to do just that.

Uh... um...

Wait.

That wasn't supposed to happen.

Shit.

...

A Race Report of Lists.

The short version: I had a good race at the Buffman and Squeaky International Distance Tri. There was gusting wind AND super steep hills (see the bike profile in my previous post, below) but I ran like a girl, and did twenty minutes better than last year, felt great, climbed EVERY hill, and wasn't last. This is a well-run race with a challenging bike course that I recommend because I love the race directors and it's just plain fun.

================================

The longer version: A list of lists.

List One: Things that were different this year:

1. I increased my calorie intake, due to comments by my dentist and coach. My dentist commented that I must must have a high metabolism because all my life, the novacane wears off unusually fast and I have to have a second shot. (My teeth are a long story. I've had 9 root canals) My coach commented that my heart rate is higher than most. Ergo, what if all this time, I've been calorie deprived and that's why I'm so tired and so slow?

2. I hired someone and enlisted peer pressure to overcome my substantial lazy streak. the Jimmy not only writes training plans but meets with all his coaching clients each week at a local track to do intervals and plyometrics. Otherwise known as The Torture, the Jimmy style. For instance, last week, he had us jump up and down bleacher steps. On one foot. And then run sprint relays. Even if I had the experience and know-how to come up with this stuff, I need the peer pressure each week from having people standing around staring at me.

3. I've stopped coughing. For as long as I've been training, whenever I slow down after exerting myself, I'd flem up and cough like crazy. People would stare, it was so bad. This past week, right after the Jimmy had us doing relays at full speed, it just stopped. It didn't peter out, or lessen, It just. stopped. I don't know why. Maybe my asthma has given up.

4. I wasn't breathless today. Oh, maybe a bit on the swim, but my max heart hate was 170, compared to last year's 183. Usually I loiter about in transition waiting for my heartrate to go down. Today, I didn't have to do that. I was, in fact, less breathless and couging and flemmy than even last week, and I don't know why.

5. I knew more people, which is fun. Like to give a shout-out to Helen, Lisa, and the rest of the peeps.

List TWO: What I ate today
1. a good breakfast. 3 hours prerace, I had oatmeal, half a sandwich with vegan cheese and vegan meat, and a double soy latte.
2. Extra GU's alone with plenty of hydration and electrolytes. On the bike, I had a bottle of heed and 1 bottle of perpetuum, 2 GU's and a bag of shot blocks. On the run, aside from 2 gulps of water at each of the 3 aid stations, I had three Gu's.
3. T1, a couple ounces of energy drink. T2, a couple more ounces of energy drink. T3, the rest of the energy grink and a medium pizza and a latte.

List THREE: STUPID TRIATHLON TRICK of the DAY
it isn't really a list; that's part of what makes it STUPID.
Okay, well, I didn't fasten my aerobike bottle on securely. So, as I was careening down the first downhill it started to shake violently. I held onto it for a while, but as I started going over some bumps at the foot of the hill I finally had to let go and grab the handlebars with both hands. At that point, the aerobottle exited my holder, hitting the pavement on the corner so that it bounced up into the air, spinning like fireworks. Except that, instead of sparks, it was spinning out 20 ounces of HEED. And, of course, it happened right in front of a race official. So, I stopped the bike, ran 10 yards or so in my cycling shoes to pick it up, and the only way to carry it was to fasten it back onto the bike. Which was a feat in inteself because it has this little strappy doodle thing that is hard to thread through...oh, forget it. Anyway, once I finally got it fastened back into the bike I realized it was on backwards.

List FOUR: The results
1500 m. Swim
Last year - 42:51
This year - 37:47
The swim felt pretty good. I didn't feel as breathless as I have in the past, and I even got to beat up Stuart. (Just kidding, Stu. JUST KIDDING!)

40K Bike
Last year - 1:53:00. Walked up 4 of 5 hills.
This year - 1:50:00. Climbed every single hill.
This doesn't seem like a huge difference. (Be sure to check out the bike profile in my previous post below) Except that: I lost my aerobottle in front of an official, so I had to get it (see below) Also, this year, there were some nasty gusting winds.

10K Run
Last year - Run pace, 14:45, Total run time - 1:31:29
This year - Run pace, 12:09, Total run time - 1:15:22
I felt awesome on this run. I started out conservatively, taking a 1 minute walk break after running 5 minutes, but after 2 miles I thought, screw it, so I stopped walking except through the aid stations. Eventually, I got bored and started singing to myself and even skipping (Yes, LIKE a GIRL.)

Total time
Last year - 4 hours, 7 minutes.
This year - 3 hours, 49 minutes.
1st place (and again, the only) Athena.

Time for a nap. And some soy ice creme.

...

Atomic Man 2007, Race Report

This morning Sweet Baboo and I got up and headed for the 3rd Annual Atomic Man Duathlon. They have two courses, the "Fat Man" and the "Little Boy". Forgetting for a moment the objectionable source of the names, I have to say that this is one of the best duathlons I've ever done. It's well organized, and they give you HEED at the aid stations instead of the evil stomach-cramping gator-juice. And, they give out some serious shwag. Last year they gave out technical T-s, long sleeve, which are one of my favorite shirts. This year they gave out LG Jackets. And, if you fill out a post race survey, you get a really nice runner's cap. The awards are usually something interesting and artsy.

We stayed in the area the night before and ate at the Peking House, I think it was called. Really decent Chinese food, including Tofu. We tried getting a bite at the Los Alamos Beverage Company, but they didn't really have anything vegan-ish. The people there looked pretty happy with their food, though, so I'm assuming it's a pretty good place. I met the owners, who did this duathlon, and they are pretty nice people. Their 8-year-old also did this race. I think he beat me.

Anyway, I'm babbling. Back to the race.

The little boy course is a 4K run, 15k bike, and 4K run. The fat man course is a 10K run, 40K bike, and 5K run. It is worth noting that the bikes on each of the courses are formidable. As in, "holy hell, this hill is steep and long, and I think I'm going to throw up." As in, the Jemez Mountains not too far from the Santa Fe ski area. They are not only very winding, but involve considerable climbing, and the whole things is at an altitude of over 6000 feet.

I did this one last year, and I was hoping to best my time. I probably would have, if I hadn't wasted time doing any of the following:

1. Standing at the bike mount line repeatedly punching my cadence meter, muttering, "reset, damn you."


2. Stopping to pick up a gel I had accidentally dropped on the course after the race director, in the prerace meeting, threatened that if we trashed any part of the course, he would find us and he would penalize us.


3. Pedaling with one leg on my bike aftering picking up said gel, while saying, repeatedly, to my left shoe/pedal, "Clip in, damn you."


4. Stopping to put the chain back on that jumped off while pedaling uphill.


5. Pedaling with one leg on my bike after putting on said chain, while muttering to my left/shoe pedal, by now shouting, "Clip in, damn you!"

It is interesting to note that it's been suggested to me repeatedly by Sweet Baboo that you're supposed to clip on the side that's most difficult first. Of course, I never remember this until I'm at the point where I'm screaming at my pedal/shoe.

Sweet Baboo would also tell me, in his kind and patient way (if he saw any of this) that swearing at my pedals, or my cadence meter, don't make it work. I, however, would insist that the end justifies the means: I feel better by swearing at my pedals and my cadence meter, and that's what's really important.

Besides, he never sees me swearing at my equipment; he's usually finished with the race, showered and relaxing with a cool beverage by the time I hit T1.

Anyway, here's a profile of the bike course. You'll have to click on it; the elevation is on the right in green; my % heart rate is on the left in brown.

Before and after the bike from hell, the two 4K runs are more or less flat, with some slight grades increasing or decreasing no more than 100 feet across the same course. The longer 40K course, by the way, including a decsent and climb into a canyon.

I missed last years' time by about 10 seconds, I think. Lessons learned: reset the cadence meter BEFORE the race; clip in left first.

Oh, I was 11th in my age group (40-44). Out of 12. I miss getting the medals. But I'm determined to get faster.

I hadn't said much about this before, but after my grand announcement of no longer being an Athena I immediately gained five pounds that have stubbornly refused to budge. I've been toying with the idea of reclaiming my status and re-entering the Athena category.

It's damned hard, at 155 pounds, (that's 11 stone for our Aussie and Canadian friends, ay?) to outrun all those skinny birdy women who dash by me. Those women who don't have to haul my fat ass up a grade 8 or 9 hill on a bike.

They are hardly much more than the weight of their skeleton, muscle, and some connective tissue, as they do their 7 or 6 minute miles and then haul their 5% bodyfat up a hill on a bike. Yeah. I'm whining. Don't remind me, or I'll sit on you. I, on the other hand, to use the vernacular, have a whole lot of cushion for the pushin'.

And I miss the gratuitious medal. I know, I know... I should be above all that. But who doesn't love a medal?

In any case I'm going to make my decision some time this week.

...

Things I just happen to know today.

1. If you take, oh, say, a MONTH off most running, it will Slow Your Ass Down. (Yeah, I know. DUH. but sometimes I just have to learn things for myself.)

2. The strawberries I bought on Thursday went and got themselves LOST. I know this because I went looking for them after doing my LSR this morning. When I asked mini-Baboo, he said he "FOUND" them. In the refrigerator. Then he asked me if he could use the Internet.

That happens a lot. Things getting lost, and then "found," by mini-Baboo, all right where I last last left them. For Pirate, it will happen twice as often. Bwahahahahah.

3. It takes me much longer to get ready for my long run when Sweet Baboo isn't here to say things like, "do you have your gels? your inhaler? your water? your watch?" etc.

4. Sweet Baboo, as I write this, is well on his way to not only be one of the Greater Sweet Baboos, but one of the Greater Sweet Iron Baboos. He finished his swim in 1:19:57. Bib#1184. Of course, he's already done an iron distance triathlon, but as several people have reminded him, he isn't a 'real' ironman because he hasn't finished a 'real' IronMan.

(WhatEVER)

5. I am now officially insanely jealous of Pirate, because she's in the midst of pimping her training bike with a pink powder finish. I will not and cannot live in such a jealous state, so I'm going to pimp my commuter. I thinking pink with black polka dots, or black with pink polkadots. And a silly plastic basket with flowers for the front. And maybe streamers. And one of those horns you squeeze.

6. The Baboo and I have decided not to move to San Antonio after all, partly because after spending two days threshing 5 acres in March temperatures, Baboo started wondering what it would be like to thresh fifteen acres. In July. When he's sixty.

Instead we're searching Albuquerque for our empty-nest nest. When Mini-baboo, the youngest of the baboos, graduates in 2009, our house will be far too large, and we're pretty desperate to get out of Rio Rancho and move into Albuquerque.

Lost item of the day: the USB network adapter I bought for Mini-baboo's computer. Some small items I should never be allowed to touch.

Or, there should be a way for me to call them, like I do my cell phone when I can't find it.

...

In which I am a nearsighted idiot.

Today I went on my first serious "long" run since the marathon two weeks ago. It felt, as I mentioned to Wiz, not like I had large bricks tired to my feet but more like someone had replaced the bricks with slightly lighter bricks. Still, I was able to keep up the run for the eight or so miles. As I mentioned before, my next goal is to run a half marathon without walk breaks.

I can't find my damned glasses.
Not my usual nerdly red framed glasses, which fog up and actually make it seem brighter out so I don't wear them outside.

I'm talking about my way cool prescription 'SportSpecs" that I need not only because I'm incredibly vain and the bright sun in New Mexico makes me squint, deepening any developing crows' feet, but also because to call me nearsighted would be an understatement. Don't get me started on contacts. I tried them once. They are way too much trouble, and I threw screaming hissy fits when they folded up under my eyelid upon insertion. I have no patience at all. My optomitrist told me that as I am getting old (he actually said that, he said old, not older) my nearsightedness would be corrected by the time I was fifty. But then I'd need reading glasses. So lasic is out.

In any case I took off for my run without any glasses at all, figuring that as long as I could see my feet (I can) and the path ten feet in front of me (I can) I'd be okay. The guys, Sweet Baboo, Wiz, and Bones, took off ahead of me. I'm alone. It's a brisk 27 degrees out and I'm managing to stay just ahead of chilled. Just me and the ipod. Almost NOBODY is on the trail this early, when it's this cold. Ahhhhhhh.

So I'm heading down the Bosque trail and its about forty minute later when I see the guys coming back. Sweet Baboo, in his white shirt, black tights, and white hat, seems to be limping. Bones, in his red jacket, is walking slowly, and Wiz is just sauntering. When I'm about 50 yards away, I holler, "what's wrong? Why are you guys walking?"

No response.

Bear in mind that I can't see faces, or even really make out distinct bodies. I can make out general human forms and the major colors they are wearing.

About 20 yards out, I yell again, "Hey, three ironman are walking down the trail. that sounds like the first line of a joke!"

No response.

I try again, "is someone hurt?"

It's when the last 't' sound of the word hurt leaves my lips that I realize that the three men approaching me are completely unknown to me. They are some old guys, much less attractive than the three men I supposed them to be. The one I supposed to be Sweet Baboo even has a big grey beard. One of them finally says something like, "I guess if we were real men we'd be running"

Well, then I'm stuck. I just said a few lame things and they went their way and I went mine, and they had a story to tell about some bitch on the trail that didn't even know them and was giving them crap about walking instead of running.

The moral of the story is that the girl at the pool who waved at you, or the cute guy across the gym floor, might not have been flirting with you at all.

Nor was that girl who seemed to be either teasing you or harassing you out on your run today.

They may just be horribly nearsighted and you happen to be wearing something that someone they knew was wearing.

Why I missed my Sunday long run: Excuse #179.

If you buy bean burritos from Taco Bell...

and then find that you've ordered more than you can comfortably consume...

do not, repeat, DO NOT eat that one that you left sitting out at room temperature six hours later.

That is all.

DOPING SCANDAL (?)

I was relating my sudafed experience today at lunch with a friend of mine who is a serious bike nerd. In addition to being a teacher, he works part time at a bike shop--just because he can--and does time trials for fun. He "loathes" running, and swimming, and says he'd do a triathlon only if it was bike-bike-bike.

Anyway, Bob started laughing and said, "Geez, you were doping! Didn't you know that's a banned substance?" He walked off, cackling, down the hall. Apparently, he thought it was a real hoot.

Nope, I didn't know. As a lifelong battler of the sprint and fall flem seasons, Sudafed is something that's always in the medicine cabinet. I'd taken to using Guifenesin lately because it works better, but yesterday I was out. But I checked, and by golly, according to the US Anti-doping agency, Sudafed is indeed a banned substance. In any case the whole experience sucked - I don't know why anyone would want their heart to race until they couldn't catch their breath, but apparently, it helps somebody unfairly, so it's banned.

Life and learn. Now in addition to the general paranoia about poisoned contrails, I can be paranoid about the USADA coming after me. Suppose I become famous, for something. Like, maybe, being the slowest triathlete on earth.
"Excuse me, but is it true that you once used a banned substances in order to enhance your performance in a sprint triathlon at Holloman Airforce Base in New Mexico? How can you explain this to the parents who entrust you with their precious teenagers, day after day?"

"Um, yes," I'd have to admit, "I was trying to enhance my performance by eliminating a substantial amount of snot--I admit it, and I promise never to do it again.
As for the teenagers, judging by their academic inclinations in the afternoons, it's probably likely that they are popping way more serious stuff than Sudafed at lunch."

Still no results posted, about the results of yesterday's sprint tri, and nobody's answering the phone over at Holloman. Grrrrrr.

Sweet Baboo has stepped up to be my training coach. I have to give him credit for taking a deep breath and doing this. He has experienced the wrath firsthand of the pissed off and tired Athena, and yet he's mustered up the courage to experience it again. When I had my Soma pity-party last week and whined, "you just don't know what it's like to always be last!" he started working on how to help me feel better and planning my training so that I would be able to finish Soma by the cutoff time. He does that a lot. It's a lot like having a nice, protective bubble around me all the time so that I don't have to experience too much stress. However, I have gone off on him in the past when my fatigue would temporarily pickle my brain and I would accuse him of trying to thwart my training, lying about how big the hills were going to be, and generally just trying to hurt me.

Now, I know he'd never do that. I just get paranoid and weird when I'm really, really tired.

Anyway, I started today with a 1500 m swim at the gym, and then 11 miles on the hill climbing program on the electronic cycle, feeling the burn, which I usually avoid doing, because I hate the burn--the burn hurts. (I prefer the electronic cycling because I don't like riding around Rio Rancho because, 1) The denizens here are insane rednecks who love to run cyclists off THEIR road, 2) there's a lot of heavy construction going on and a solid line of about a dozen large fill trucks running back and forth in the middle of my route who LOVE to come up behind me and blast their air horns at me. Bastards. As well, the bike bath on the bosque is ripe with IBP incidents--just ask Dread Pirate.)

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