Dude, I am freaking out.

Internet friends

2010-06-21T19:10:00.004-05:00

Whenever I explain my blogging relationships to my "real life" friends, I get a bit flustered. Internet friends? I have internet friends? I recognize their legitimate benefit in a changing world while being leery of the stigma. And while the connections I've made with my internet friends have been surprisingly meaningful to me, I was taken aback at just how much the loss of one of them could hurt.

Today I found out one such internet friend passed away. While we only met once, it was all I could do after hearing the news to make it home before I started crying. It also took about that long to think, "If this is how you feel, just imagine how awful a loss this is to her family and friends." I suppose we all have to go sometime, but I can't help but feel like a great positive force in the world has left our company.

Wendy was human and therefore imperfect, but she refrained from displaying those imperfections to me. A swimmer and cat lover with a delightful wit and a great capacity for encouragement, she rooted on athletic accomplishments and human indulgences alike. I can't count the times her comments brought me a smile or a bit of comfort. Though I didn't have the pleasure of knowing her well, I will truly miss her, and my thoughts are with her family. Rest well, Wendy.

5 months from today

2010-06-06T16:38:00.005-05:00

I'll be sweating out my latest and greatest Ironman. It'll be my 5th. I should have this whole "training for an Ironman/kind of a badass" routinedown by now, but this time I'm legitimately nervous. I haven't completed an Ironman-- nay, a triathlon-- since I began law school in 2007. I have the bar exam (Job 1, as those who like to use awkward phrases might say) in seven weeks. I'm overweight, an overstuffed sausage version of my old Iron self. And worse yet, I'm embarrassingly out of shape. I know that once I get to the starting line I can handle whatever race day offers; I am nothing if I'm not tough. But this time, whether I arrive to race is a larger question mark than I'm used to.

Sounds like a good time to start blogging, right? I could use some help or support, and I miss Houston and my tri community something awful. I'll never understand why I miss a place that was never meant to be home-- I daresay it's the people I left behind there. But I digress.

Today I went on my first run in 6 weeks, and it was ugly. About 2 minutes in my chest tightened, and I wanted to turn back. I look ridiculous, I thought. Fatties shouldn't run in public. People are you going laugh at you as you waddle by. But no one laughed, of course, and a few more minutes in I relaxed and enjoyed a nice (though slow) jog along the lakefront. In two weeks I'll be able to handle anything without that fear of physical discomfort (or is it failure?) rising up; right now it's just a question of getting there.

And with that, let me explain my plan. I am going to study for and pass the bar. I am going to take the next 22 weeks and get my ass into shape. I'm going to fundraise for my Janus Charity Challenge beneficiary and my old volunteer gig, the Greater New Haven Cat Project (before that, I'm going to finish building my fundraising site). I'm going to lose the 8 pounds that kept me from winning my Law School Bet (weight in = weight out --> new bike). I am also going to blog about it-- and in that order. Some things I want to accomplish in a less formal sense (more of guidelines I suppose?) include trying to curse less and not describing my training as a journey, an epic metamorphosis, or anything else ridiculous for the daily life of a normal human.

Now, about the blog. I've been here before, but dropped off the face of the planet when I started school and struggled with life, though I suppose not triathloning anymore didn't help, either. But now that I'm back, I'm not sure I'm going to stay... let's see how this trip goes before extending it, eh? I will warn you that unless you email me at my ever classy hotengineergirl at yahoo email by July 15th, you'll find my page blocked from your curious eyes. On July 16th, I'll be switching to a invite-only blog to prevent my getting any stalkers. So, let me know if you want to join. I'll post a reminder closer to the date, of course-- no need to worry about doing it this second (unless you want to).

Alrighty. I'm back to bar study (yea.). Catch you in a few days once I pick out a gym to get back in the pool!

Ironman 2009?

2008-04-18T09:41:00.004-05:00

I think I have time for one last hurrah in 2009 before I rejoin the workforce the next year. Because I'm limited to late summer races, I really only have one choice left: Lake Placid. And since I expect the online registration to all but disappear this year, I'm helping out on race day and getting in line to register in person the next morning--exactly like Dying Water Buffalo last year. I'm really just following her around, one year late.

I signed up to volunteer, and I won't be getting the posh spots in transition and at the finish line that I got at Wisconsin. Nevertheless, it shall be awesome. I'm stoked.

I was also thinking about camping instead of getting a hotel room since I just bought a sweet new tent and am looking for excuses to use it. Does anyone have any experience with Lake Placid? Camping is a thing to do there, right? I figured if I don't have to worry about all the things that real athletes have to worry about like sleeping well or preparing enormous amounts of gear for the race, I could take advantage of the amazing locale. But, I don't know if this is realistic. Let me know if you have any feedback.

Where is everyone else going in 2009?

And speaking of Chicago...

2008-04-14T20:01:00.006-05:00

A law school friend twisted my arm til I agreed to register for everyone's favorite marathon with her. It'll be her first marathon. We have a time goal and everything-- basically, contrary to everything I usually do with running thus far. It's a welcome change.

I'm scared. I've never signed up to do a race with someone else, except Sunmart 50k (aka "The time I learned that drinking soda while running makes me very sick"). We're figuring out a training plan tomorrow, though mine'll be different than hers on account of that whole ironman thing I'm doing six weeks earlier. That's another good reason to be scared. Even so, I'm excited about the prospect of training with someone since training alone for the 26.2 hasn't worked yet. Admittedly, it's been a long and low-workout-volumed schoolyear without any sort of network of exercisers. I'm lonely up here, and so is my spandex.

Okay, enough self-pity. I need to save my whining for the course! ;-)

Moving to Chicago

2008-04-14T19:00:00.002-05:00

And as much as I love the band, I don't mean I'm dancing to "Look Away." I'm heading to Chicago for a summer of associateness and Ironman training.
The good: world, eat your heart out as I open water swim every day (in theory) without the fear of being eaten by a jellyfish-shark.
The bad: I think that Chicago doesn't make hills, and rumor has it that Louisville is full of 'em. I'm also without my Houston tri crowd, which is nothing short of tragic (so I suppose that should have made it to the ugly, huh?).
The ugly: I don't remember how to swim, and perhaps more importantly, I have not secured housing.
Still, I'm stoked. No need to go all negativo on myself, right? It's still March. I mean, April.

Aside from the excitement of moving to a city with public transportation, I'm a little concerned about where I go for triathlon info. Where should I train? What are good warmup races to do? Can I ride in the city or is it off to the 'burbs in the Nissan like in Houston?

I don't know. Do you? Do your friends know? Are there any Chicago trifolk running around The Internets? Can you give me tri relocation advice? I'm all ears!

Whatcha doin tomorrow?

2008-04-12T15:07:00.002-05:00

Nothing? Yeah, me neither. So why don't you watch one of Houston's finest drop more time from IM #1 and IM #2 and any IMer in history? Go on. It'll be fun. With a number like 99, how could it be anything less?

St. Louis half: a super okay race

2008-04-11T08:23:00.005-05:00

I think I owe a everyone poop story. Er, a race review.

The St. Louis marathon is much like the city itself-- perfectly fine, but not living up to its potential. On marathonguide.com there's some d-bag from Rochester that goes into this long tirade about how the city's been plummeting from its high point of 1904, but I'd argue that's true of the entire midwest. In a marathon review. And dude is from Rochester, which doesn't sound like a fun place to live at all-- now OR in 1904.

But I digress.

Race day was great. I got to the start line at 5:45 and met a long row of empty, clean portapotties. Like, really clean. So clean I was breathing normally instead of alternating between gagging and holding my breath. For someone who loves poop stories I have little tolerance for anything poop-related. Give me a puking person and I'll give you a trooper who'll hold back hair and clean up vomit chunks. But traditional bathroom god sacrifices? Ew. Anyway, I used the portapotty, ran into some law school friends/acquaintances, and stretched. Two of the school crowd went to go warm up, and I laughed when they asked me to join them. Of course, when you're going to run sub-8 pace like they did, a warmup is a good idea. Me, I saved it for the race.

I started near the 10:00 pace mark and enjoyed the atmosphere. It was a beautiful day to run. It was 45 degrees at the start, so I had on a long sleeve top and throwaway gloves that have never been thrown away; I almost wore a jacket too, but my shorts were navy and my jacket was black and I didn't want to clash. Seriously. It was a fortuitous concern because I was pretty hot by the time I finished; I'm a short sleeves and shorts kind of girl, something I continually and erroneously doubt. The gun went off and so did we, and 7 minutes (!!) later I crossed the mat.

And so it was. Miles flew by and my mile splits got faster, so I tried to walk more. It didn't help. I saw Sam finish (an impressive 12th overall) when I was passing the halfway point, and that was exciting, if a little sad he ran almost twice as fast as me. I cruised along happy as a clam with my tunes (a prudent move since I forgot my inhaler and my breathing sounded like a dying cow's final gasps). I walked water stations and some hills and mostly tried to have a good time, which was swell for the first 10 miles. Mile 12 turned out to be brutal, but this is hardly surprising given my longest run was 7 miles, and it was over a month ago. But I made it, and with decent splits:
First 2 miles: 20:20
Mile 3: 9:58
Mile 4: 10:40
Mile 5: 9:56
Mile 6: 9:55
Mile 7: 9:54
Mile 8: 10:03
Mile 9: 9:50
Mile 10: 10:07
Mile 11: 10:22
Mile 12:10:55
Mile 13: 9:42
Last .1: 0:58
Total: 2:12:20

Until mile 11 I thought I could make my midrace goal of 2:11, but that didn't happen. Oh well! I still came in the top half of my division and participants overall, which was all I was hoping for. And I broke 1000 calories on my HRM! 1054 baby! It took an average heartrate of 166 to get to 4 caloric digits, but I did it.

The postrace fun was, in fact, fun if disorganized and a little crowded. It's really hard to appreciate any post-marathon stuff after being spoiled by Houston, who does the best job with the finish line of any race I've seen. I wasn't very hungry on account of the tummy cramps I had from mile 7 on, so I just snagged a beer and headed home-- big recovery mistake.

After I headed home I worked on my last paper for the semester and lounged around. My muscles felt great! It was only my knees and a hand that hurt... til Monday. I got up for school the next day and did a little Frankenstein action; it was funny because it was deserved. After my Sunday mistakes, I iced, cremed, and medicated my legs, and I was feeling pretty good by Wednesday. This Sunday I have to hit the IM training plan for week 1-- five miles. I think I can handle it, but it's hard to imagine being IM training time already.

That was my race. Are you ready for the poop story? I gave the squeamish an escape hatch-- and color coding.
Onto the real action. Before I really get into it, let me just say that I'm not telling this story to be juvenile; I consider it a duty to inform the public. That and it's funny, at least to the people I've told the story to in real life. Not to build it up or anything.

Rewind to mile 4. We were running by the Nestle/Purina plant ((who knew they were one company? Not me) and I got a faint whiff of poop. "Ew," I thought. "What a pity that animal food production smells like feces." But I continued on. So did the smell. In fact, it seemed to get worse though we were running away from the plant; I decided it must be the part of the city we were in.

This continued until almost mile 6. The couple next to me mentioned how it smelled like "Turner's dirty diaper" (Turner? sigh), so I knew I wasn't making this up. And since the smell was getting worse, I was starting to get sick. I kept gagging and was afraid I was going to lose my experimental gel (I ate one 15 minutes before the race started-- something I've never done before. It was, by and large, a success-- no surprise since I'm so bad about eating enough calories before and during a race). Suddenly in front of me I see a woman with a spot of mud on her calf. I thought maybe she'd stepped in dog doodoo. I considered if I should go up to her and ask since I was seriously starting to get sick and there were portapotties everywhere along the course where she could clean herself off... but I didn't. I thought it was rude. A couple minutes went by and I looked back at the woman; this time there is an explosion of poo all down the back of her thigh. That was no dog doodoo. That was a woman pooping during the race.

(Interestingly, there was only poop down one leg. I've been speculating about this with many but it seems curious, no?)

Let me repeat that. There was a woman pooping herself WHILE RUNNING. On the course. The course with 13,000 people on it. My course. Now maybe I should have felt sorry for her, but I didn't then and haven't yet. We've all had running moments when an unplanned restroom trip seems inevitable. In an emergency, YOU WALK to keep from soiling yourself. Craig thinks that maybe she didn't realize it. As someone who slowly caught up to her over 2 miles, I can assure you that she had to know by the exxtreme smell she was giving off. Perhaps she thought she was being heroic? Perhaps. I think 10 minute miles with poop all over your legs is closer to heinous, even if it's a fine pace to run.

Anyway, once I realized there was a woman with explosive diarrhea running in front of me, the dry heaves got worse. I had to surge ahead of her or quit-- that's how disgusting it was. Unfortunately for me, the mile 6 water station was just beyond us, and I stopped to eat a gel. She kept running, past dozens of portapotties. I couldn't believe it. Who keeps running with poop down one entire leg? Who is so selfish to think that their half marathon time shouldn't be slowed by a trip to the restroom? I was mad. I don't know if she finished or not; I admittedly never saw her again after she passed me as I was eating a gel. But I did watch her run by 2 sets of portapotties without breaking stride.

It's funny. I don't pee on my bike or before/in road races because the thought of urine on the things I love-- namely, my bike seat and my running shoes-- is repulsive, the penultimate disrespect (after, of course, #2) to my possessions and other racers. I think the average packer is fooling herself to think such things are necessary for her race when we're not breaking any records and restroom stops are quick (and if you can minimize them by not overhydrating). But at least I can understand peeing on oneself even though I do not approve. Pooping, however, is another matter. It's icky and it's obvious. Why would one stoop to #2 during a race?

That's about all. Although I thought this went without saying before Sunday, please do yourself and those around you a favor-- take a potty break with #2 calls. It's not amazing or impressive to shun the most basic of hygiene-- it's stinky. And even worse, people on the internet will write long posts about you. And who wants that?

A poop story to end all poop stories

2008-04-06T18:32:00.002-05:00

Man. Ooooh man. I hope you're ready for a poop story... tomorrow. I had a grand day at the St. Louis half today, and I can feel it from my waist down. My knees are not feeling swell and I got some chafing from careless dressing, but all in all I really had a great day. I just wanted to let you know I lived and it was way more fun than I remembered. Perhaps in the future I shouldn't go nine months without a race if it can be helped; I need races.

Biker friend who doesn't call me now that he realizes I cannot, in fact, bike (Sam for short) like won or came in second or something in today's race. I can vouch for his awesomeness because I saw him finish-- when I was on my way to the 7 mile marker. I obviously planned that.

Anyway, I hope you can't sleep tonight in anticipation of a Poop Story. You'll laugh. You'll cry. You'll gag. I know I did.

Permission slip

2008-04-05T19:17:00.005-05:00

I need your help. Specifically, I need your blessing.

Tomorrow I'm running my first race since, well, I can't even remember (maybe the Webster Du in July?), but it was a long time ago. And despite my promising February - March training, I am not ready to race like my last half marathon. I'm cool with that. The St. Louis Marathon was my first, and I'm excited to be back on the course. And I've been looking forward to a physical experience that will tire me out to knock me into a peaceful sleep at night, even if it may include 12:00 miles. But I realized that my shame has reached an unacceptable level when I considered not wearing my chip for tomorrow's half marathon.

So you wouldn't see. So you wouldn't point and laugh.

In the long term I should consider, oh, not blogging (at all) and voluntarily sharing my race experiences, or finding less judgmental friends. Or maybe I should just stop projecting. None of those solutions can be realized in less than 12 hours, so instead I simply say, "Hey. I'm run-walking a half marathon tomorrow on purpose. Don't laugh at me. I need the exercise."

This ship is not running so smoothly right now. I keep having freak accidents and injuring myself temporarily (have you ever gotten punched in the nose? It bleeping hurts. I managed to accidentally punch myself in the nose a couple weeks ago; now my nose makes a cracking noise if I push on it, and of course I keep pushing on it. Wouldn't you?), and mini-crises keep popping up. I know it's part of the ebb and flow of existing-- after all, I had an accident-free December and January-- but I'm looking forward to hitting calm waters soon. Somehow I think hanging out for a morning of poop-butt running (hopefully sans poo) will make that happen. But it really sours my happy mental image to see you smugly checking the race results.

So there it is. I'll be back tomorrow with some "race" stories and such, and you can bet your asp I'm hitting the beer (even if it is at mile 3 instead of mile 24 like the last time I was on this course). I'm hoping to finish around 2:25, but I've got nothing to rush home to but my kittyman and my last legal writing assignment of the semester. So keep laughing-- just not at me. ;-)

The very next day...

2008-03-07T09:52:00.003-06:00

There was no snow:

Actually, I cheated. I took this photo (again, sorry it's crappy) from my hotel balcony in Phoenix. The change of weather was delicious... I should have stayed longer. My obsession with Phoenix is borderline healthy.

Okay, that's it. I just wanted to brag. :)

Wonderland

2008-03-04T16:43:00.003-06:00

Room with a view: looking out my apt this instant

It's snowing here. And unlike that crap Mother Nature normally pulls, it's snowing during the day; we got to watch the gift fall from the sky all morning. We've gotten 7 inches and it's still coming down... and I'm thinking I might head to Art Hill this evening for some sledding action, though admittedly I've never done anything like that before.

I also got a job offer today.

Life is good. I'll be back to posting earlier than expected!

Gray hairs

2008-01-15T10:10:00.000-06:00

Why do they call gray hairs gray hairs? They're not gray. They're sparkling white highlights in a sea of chocolate. I'll never understand, but I suppose I'll let them lie.

My mom had the most beautiful gray hair-- everyone commented on it. Each strand of her hair was either inky black or dazzling white; there was no in-between. If you have gray hair like that, don't dye it. It's a crime against humanity to cover up such a lovely display of experience and wisdom.

My gray hairs are considerably less attractive than my mom's. For one, none of the gray hairs on my head will be pigeonholed into a single hair color-- instead, they hem-haw around, an inch white, and inch brown. (I have not only found six but allowed them to continue growing. I'm, like, a preservationist or something.) They're ninnies about growing up without their cloak of melanin or whatever colors hair, and they shouldn't be.

I found my first gray hair when I was 20.5 years old, and I nearly started crying when I saw it. It was a mark of barren, cold, lonely woman, and an awful personal symbol. Now almost six years later I'm surprised not at the 600% increase of known gray hairs but my serene acceptance of them... minus the mini freak-out I had during law school orientation upon discovery of the temple-dwelling gray hairs. I really do see my little white intruders as genuine signs of maturity. A semi-mastered life, even if I sometimes get the giggles when talking about "duty" too long. Even if I'm in school at age 26. And even if my hair is still dominated by brown. I'm a-growin' up into a real live woman, one in which I am proud, my family can be proud, and my mom would have bragged about to total strangers till they vomited or ran away screaming. I'd say such weighty praise (even if self-delivered; I hope you excuse me) is worth the small burden of some blossoming silver strands.

Sunshine and butterflies

2008-01-13T22:01:00.000-06:00

You know how life and your mood oscillate? My life and mood are currently great. Divine. Superb. I'm enjoying this high as long as I can.

My school break and celebrated return (ha!) have been good for me. My weird acne is gone. My teeth are whitened. My relationships are healthy. My heart can stand it when I run. My apartment isn't infested with roaches. I didn't fail out of my first semester (so far). Life is good.

Today I went on my first longish run. Yesterday I was a stinker and sat around dirtying dishes and watching Law & Order to beef up for a semester of Criminal law, so before I went to bed (early) last night I told myself that Sunday would be no fun: I had to run over six miles if it took all day, and I had to do my reading for the first days of classes. I was mentally preparing to be unprepared mentally.

This morning it took 30 minutes to get up and out for my run, but I did--even though it was in the 20s and flurrying. (I apologize for abusing those around me by wearing tights, but sacrifices had to be made.) I decided to run to Forest Park, around, and back for a 6.5 mile run; I could add bells and whistles to next week's run, but for today the loop had to be conquered. I told myself to chill out and run 11:00 pace if I wanted. I told myself to walk if I got tired. I allowed myself to bring my nano along for the party. All was well.

Two miles in some adorable blonde passed me. I was sad, but people get passed, especially me. Then, 2 miles later, I was a breath away from catching her on a steep, short hill; presumably horrified that such a large spandex-clad butt could catch her, blondie picked up the pace. I did too. By mile 5 we were busting down the trail, running sub-9 minute pace. She cut the course once and got through two lights for which I had to stop, so I never caught her. But when I turned to run home, she turned around with what I think was a look of relief; her pursuer had decided to chase other things, like a shower.

But I'll catch her next time. My slow run ended up being about 5 minutes faster than expected, including stoplight breaks. I'm torn about whether or not I should stop my watch when waiting for lights. On one hand, it's not time during which I'm covering the distance. On the other, the mandatory break may make me faster after the rest. I'm currently not stopping (my watch) for lights, but I think I might switch; what do you guys do?

Feels like the first time

2007-12-31T12:46:00.000-06:00

Can a girl get enough Foreigner references in her blog? I think not.

I've swum twice this week, my first dips in the pool since early November. It's a funny thing about swimming-- I find the first trip back for my chlorinated baptism is the best swim I do. I feel light, quick, thin. My stroke is smooth, and instead of focusing on the inefficiencies in my pool, I feel my hips turn, slow and steady, the source of my power. I can see my turns, my streamlines, as the things of imperfect beauty that they are. I can beat 14-year-old girls and 60-year-old boys. More than anything, the pool is my playground in that first swim. This first was even better because it was in 72 degree water. The lifeguard yelled at me when I hopped in, but I couldn't understand anything but "72." It turns out the pool heater was broken, but I didn't mind-- 72, like my first swim backstroke, is perfect.

Of course, the grace only lasts as long as my first swim-- the second swim is laborious and painful as the first run. A modest 2200 left me feeling like I'd gotten booster shots in my delts, and by my next dip I was horrified at my kick, my left elbow position, and my breaststroke pull. By swim #2 I sucked at all things aquatic, but it's okay with me. I don't work to be graceful; I work to be less awkward. Maybe by the time I'm finished, all swims will be as satisfying as the first.

It can get worse

2007-12-10T18:28:00.000-06:00

The maintenance guy came out of my bathroom at 11 PM on Saturday and told me my toilet was broken (no crap) and that he couldn't fix it. When I asked what I should do he said, "Well, do you have a big pot or pan?"

I knew right then that this wasn't going to end well. He meant, of course, a big pot to dump water into the bowl to get it to flush from the water pressure; my toilet is old-school, and some valve went bad (and no, I didn't stop it up). To fix it, they were going to have to replace the whole toilet or replace the hard-to-find valve, but both would require shutting the water off in my entire 6-story building. I tried to be cheerful about it, even on Sunday when maintenance guy's boss didn't make the appointment to come look at the toilet.

The toilet didn't break me. It was the roaches. The roaches?! Yes, the roaches. Last week I got a call saying they were going to exterminate in my apartment because of "an infestation." Gross, I thought, with not a little bit of haughtiness. I'd never seen a roach in my place and assumed that it was someone else's filth that caused the problem, and that my extermination was just a preventive.

You know the phrase "pride cometh before a fall"? Well, it stings a little right now. I started actually seeing roaches in my place the day of the extermination, and so I armed the crevices with killer motels and stalked the place with an ever-present can of RAID. But they kept coming. I remained steadfastly sane (well, that's a slight exaggeration) and took comfort in my friends' assurances that roaches come out after extermination "to die." Some at my hand.

Sh!t hit the fan on Sunday. For lunch I made some homemade mac and cheese. For dinner I ate the same, but when I nuked it, it was too hot. I left it on the counter to cool and used the restroom. Of course, it took me five bleeping minutes to fully flush the toilet (and about 15 gallons of water-- not that I counted), and when I returned to get my dinner I found two roaches. They appeared to be considering whether they should or should not jump into my bowl of cheesy goodness. I was considering if I should off them or myself. I chose them. Then I scoured the kitchen, looking for more of the bastards to drown in RAID. Then I cleaned like a frenzied housewife. There were tears, and very real sorrow for having to throw out my precious mac and cheese. I'd snapped.

Normally at this point I'd dig through my lease, read up on some landlord-tenant law in Missouri, and cruise the board of health's website for something to get the jerks running this show (my school by the way). Armed with info, I'd send a letter politely acknowledging that I wasn't some idiot consumer and then saying something about expecting things to right themselves, but without sounding prickish. But there was no time-- Monday I had an exam in my weakest subject, from my hardest professor and the one I was most eager to please (for the moment at least-- I find I'm most eager to please the professor whose exam I have next). I shot off a justifiably angry-but-not-crazy email to maintenance and went back to cramming and looking around the room for pests in paranoid fashion.

Today I got a call from the recipient of my nastygram (I really did try to be nice in it) saying they were going to re-exterminate my place-- the day of my last exam, a take-home which I was planning on actually taking home-- and they were going to fix my toilet this morning. When I left for my Monday exam they were still at work on the john, but I felt comforted. As I should, right? And the roach problem was from some icky dude, but I was assured the problem was being handled. No need to go Rambo-vigilante on my neighbors to find the SOB who's compromising my home, humble as it may be. Things were getting done.

Okay, pseudo-crises resolved and onto what I came here to do: kick tail on exams (or, alternatively, how to sort of learn how to be a lawyer, but not all the way because law schools think that's too simplistic). Monday's exam was a 3 hour trial with 4 questions. #3 was supposed to be substituted by a new #3 in the packet. I took the exam, but there was a particular law by which I was completely baffled, so afterward I broke etiquette and asked the guy in front of me about it (who seems really good at law school). What? he asked. He had no clue what I was talking about, and he looked like he was going to cry. Frick! He asked someone else about it, and that guy shrugged. Double frick! Did I answer the wrong question? I headed to the registrar's office to see if I could just find out what I did. I decided that if I messed up I certainly deserved it for not reading my exam properly; I am, after all, a grown person capable of reading and writing exams, and should account for my mistakes. The registrar was much more sympathetic than I expected-- apparently my professor made the change at the last moment, and some students answered the wrong question and others didn't do the 4th question because he'd mentioned in class that there were going to be 3 total. This is a nice mess. Should the question be thrown out? Which one? What about the people who wrote the exam properly-- should they be penalized by taking out anything? I started to cry (again). A fraction of my life depended on that score. Summer jobs are hard to find for 1Ls, and I needed to score grades to make it out of the proverbial Pile-- looks aren't going to do it.

It turns out I did answer everything as I should have, at least from a procedural standpoint. But by the end that was little comfort! I've been crazed from the subject, crazed from a bleeping roach infestation, and crazed from a superbleeping toilet that won't bleeping flush. Grades for a semester based on single exams? Hey, bring it on. "Problems at home" on top of everything else? It was too much for this mouse (ugh, hopefully don't have those too).

Now I'm spent. I have one more exam in my best subject, and I secretly wish it were tomorrow. Hopefully my roof doesn't cave in or my cat get a rare form of rabies and attack me in the middle of the night... but if I were a betting man, I wouldn't put my money on me this week.

I'll be back next week after exams, driving home, and a daunting amount of job search stuff. I'll have other stuff to talk about besides school... like not being in school. For three weeks. I'm drooling in anticipation already!

Don't believe me if I say I'm 27

2007-11-09T09:19:00.000-06:00

No cyclocross last week... I couldn't unbury myself from schoolwork, which is slightly more important than learning to remain vertical on my bike. Sam assured me that I wouldn't have been the slowest chick there though, so it's definitely something to consider. Of course, not this weekend. Craig's in town!

Perhaps of more interest is that I'm doing my second annual candy-free November. You may remember that last year Craig said that I was addicted to candy, so I took a month off to prove him otherwise. Here it is, 9 days in and I'm just posting about it-- it should give you an idea of how much easier it is to do the second time around. And unlike last year, I'm not substituting candy with 2-4 Toll House kiosk cookies this year (could that be how I got fat last year?). Instead, I'm eating fruit bars and granola bars, with the occasional super-delicious sweet... such as birthday cake.

Perhaps of more interest than that is it's my birthday today. Thanks to USAT I've been telling people all year that I was 26, my USAT age (don't worry, I'm not still bitter... much). My gut reaction is to say I turn 27 today. This may be cute now, but it won't be in three years. I've been robbed of my perkiest-sounding age of 25! You might as well just start calling me a hag now.

I am totally stealing a birthday idea from TriBoomer and am taking up the ol' b-day tri: 1 mile swim, 22 mile bike, 3.2 mile run (the .2 is for the 2 days I have to wait to do it. I'm sure I'll still be filled with birthday spirit on Sunday). I know the distances are a little, um, off, but dammit I can swim a mile in my own tri if I want to. Is it a sad reflection on my life when I can't plop down for a couple hours to work out? Yes. But life is what it is, and quite frankly, this may be my happiest birthday yet. That pool isn't going anywhere.

But I am. Enjoy the day-- I will. :)

4 posts 4 U

2007-10-28T22:32:00.000-05:00

Ugh. My title annoys me. One of the most striking old-lady attributes I perceive that I have is an absolute disgust with electronic shorthand. I text most words fully typed (b/c being an exception), and I IM with full words as well; admittedly, I'm not very good with capitalization and punctuation, but it's not as important to me so I clearly let it slide. The only person who shortens things that I can stand is my brother, and that's because I love him anyway. Everyone else? *shudder*

But I digress. I am waiting for the day when I can write without interrupting myself. :) Here are four posts for you detailing what a sad sack I am. It's better if you read them in order (Thursday first, Sunday last). If you're annoyed I posted 4 times in one night and not at all in 2-3 weeks, tough nuggets-- you can just read one a day or skip them all. I really am trying. I'm also trying to keep up with some blog reading, but I usually read at school (at lunch, not in class) and am having a nasty problem with my internet connectivity. I read, I comment, I press "Publish your comment" and get the finger from the internet gatekeeper. Just know I'm reading, even if it's silently.

I would also like to point out that Wendy called me out on my bragging about Geronimo and his fetch-playing. I have to be honest: he only plays fetch with his mouseys, a set of 5 little fur mice with leather tails. He will play fetch with all 5 colors though (actually, the first package of mouseys are dead and had to be thrown out, but the same is true for their replacements). I just didn't want to mislead anyone about the awesomeness of my cat. Speaking of the G-man, did you know that cats have-- and lose-- baby teeth? That freaked me out, because I discovered this when mine had 3 canine teeth one day and only 2 the next. I found the lost tooth when I was sweeping the next day. Gross huh?

Lazy = Humiliating: The end of (Sun)days

2007-10-28T22:24:00.000-05:00

Sunday morning found my butt kicked--by Saturday’s ride. My legs weren’t sore at all, but my butt was. I couldn’t sit on my bed/broken couch, let alone my horrific mountain bike seat. I bailed, self-conscious about the lameness of my excuse. A visual inspection confirmed that I indeed bruised my butt again. But what do I do? Dare I get a new seat? I’m afraid of investing any money into my mountain bike. And after I did a little cyclocross research, I got super intimidated. I’m an out-of-shape noncyclist with a 30 lb mountain bike. The guys in the cyclocross tutorial pics are on sleek bikes with no suspension and pretty cycling jerseys and with what I can only assume is a healthy interest in riding without constantly braking. What was I getting myself into?

Perhaps the more accurate question is what AM I getting myself into--because I promised to race next weekend, and so help me if I wuss out again. Here’s what I’m thinking: I have a week to ride (every other day at least) the course in Forest Park and gain some confidence and pick up a teeny bit of CV fitness I lost. Cyclists generally poo-poo the triathlete mentality of buying new stuff all the time, so my mountain bike (which is a respectable if inexpensive Specialized) shouldn’t draw too much criticism. If there’s a ton of people there then there’s a chance someone else will be slow like me; if there aren’t who gives a shit if 40 people see me get destroyed? My only concern is getting in the way of other riders. Oh, and genuinely sucking at something besides basketball (helpful hint: pick me last in any ball sport. I’m wretched). But how am I going to get better if I’m downright afraid of biking? There’s a reason I tossed my tri bike on the trainer instead of pulling on a pair of tights to hit the roads, and it’s not just laziness or a disdain for spandex-clad butt jiggle. There’s no better place to get some handling skills down than on the more forgiving terrain of dirt and grass, and once I get some cycling confidence I really think I’ll be in a different world than the one I’m in now. And I think it’s time I had a public dose of humility--since school isn’t keeping my ego in check (that was 100% sarcastic).

I’m convinced. Are you? If not, don’t tell me. I’ll give you the story next week... who knows, maybe I’ll be looking for a cyclocross bike in a few months. Or maybe my I’ll buy a unicorn or a pair of designer sunglasses. Same thing really. *gulp*

Lazy = Humiliating: The Friday-Saturday version

2007-10-28T22:06:00.000-05:00

Last weekend Greyhound called me with a swimming drill question. As I listened to the message, it occurred to me that I hadn’t swum in almost a month, so Friday I hit the AC pool for “at least a 2000.” The good news is I made it a happy 2400 m (2640 yards!!). The bad news is I was sore before I got out of the shower; the 8x75 IM order 50/25 set (my very favorite--50 fly-25 back, 50 back-25 breast, etc) nearly killed me. What was breathtaking butterfly (I’m sure!) my first 25 was undoubtedly mistaken as a blue-red gasping whale floundering down the lane on my last 25. But did I stop? How could I? Gasping whale or not, I was finishing my favorite set-- the lifeguard was watching after all.

Saturday my back and arms were ridiculously sore, but I was determined to work it out. I decided to go for a quick 30 minute run, and instead of going the flat way around Forest Park I went the other direction, which has a .75 mile-ish-long incline. Given that I live a quarter mile from the park and I was turning around at 15 minutes, this was going to be the meat of my out leg of the run. It wasn't exactly fun, but I made it without walking and held a not-horrifying-not-awesome 10:00 pace. At 15 minutes I turned around, and soon after I passed a walker who was heading uphill. He looked utterly ridiculous--a silly hat, huge purple jacket and the stride that refused to be constrained to the right half of the path. He was smiling, so I said hello. His response? “Keep it up! You’ll make it!”

Excuse me? Am I the one walking here? Aren’t I going downhill? I know that I never look like a runner, no matter if I’m running 7:30 miles or 12:00 miles. I’m okay with that. Sure, I’m leading the pack on the “most noticeable bowling-pin shaped body” award [thanks to that mirror by the pool entrance--and the jerk who put it there-- which made me very aware of that fun fact on Friday]. And yes, my heartrate was an obscene 165 bpm. [ another fun aside--on the first half of the trip I considered what kind of headlines I could make if I keeled over: “25-year-old Ironman has heart attack on 3 mile jaunt.” See? I’m great to have around at festive events] But still--I couldn’t have looked that bad; the cat didn’t say anything to me when I got home, and he would have mentioned it if I'd looked like I was going to puke.

No? Okay, not another cat joke ever. Happy?

After I ran I volunteered raking leaves for three hours. Let me tell you, that was great for that sore back/arms thing I had going on. Then I showered. Ha! Yeah right. I really pulled out my mountain bike to go for a ride with Sam. Remember him? He’s the one I crashed with going 1 mph last month-- I actually still have a mark on my thigh from our little joyride. He hadn’t called me since then (can you blame him?), but he wanted to recruit me for a cyclocross race on Sunday. Determined to look less like an idiot on a bike, I took him up on a Saturday practice run on a cyclocross course in Forest Park so I could decide about Sunday’s race.

Within 1 minute of riding away from my door I fell over—my bike went left, and I went right. Thankfully I was wearing a longsleeve t-shirt, so nothing was hurt but my shriveled-up pride. Seriously, who falls on their own street? On a mountain bike? In my defense, though, I just put my old spd's on my mountain bike and it's the first time I've been on them. Interestingly enough, that was the only time I fell the entire 2ish hours we rode. Sam showed me how to get off my bike while running, then hop back on. (I guess in cyclocross you’re off road and you ride a loop that has obstacles in it--you have to hop off your bike and carry it over the obstacles.) At some point I tried to hop off my bike and my right foot refused to come out of the clip. It turned out I’d lost a screw on the bottom of my cycling shoe, and it was hell getting my foot out since a mere twist wasn’t doing the job. After that I rode with only one foot clipped in... I don’t recommend it, especially if you want any hope of keeping your weight on your feet and not 100% on your hiney. But even riding all funky half clipped in, I went from ultra-awful to just plain bad at riding the course. Yess! After riding to the LBS to fix my shoe (for free--which was good because I didn’t have any money to pay them), I was pretty psyched to race on Sunday. I went home to shower and run some errands, already sore from the day’s work but uncharacteristically comfortable with trying something new the next day, even with the promise of an almost-certain butt whooping.

Lazy = Humiliating: The Thursday version

2007-10-28T21:57:00.000-05:00

It’s been awhile. I could have written before now, but the truth is I’ve been busy with school and not training, and is there anything lamer than a law school blog? No. Law school is what it is, and is remarkably similar to what it was 40 years ago. No story there.

I’ll start with the first bike story. It finally turned cold here, so I could justify putting Lucy on the trainer rather than hunt for excuses not to ride around town. After a fun dinner with the new “girls” on Thursday I came home, did a tiny ab workout, cracked open a beer, and went to work on “winterizing” my bike. I took off my back wheel, and proceeded to change the tire to an old one-- no sense in ruining my new ones on the trainer, right? [I had a little trainer debacle in 2005 where I shredded my tire and it nearly exploded from what I assume was the wrong amount of pressure on the back rubby thingy... admittedly, it would have been a much better story if it had exploded. Maybe next time?] I took off the black (new) tire, which was harder than I remember, and put the red/old tire on, which was also harder than I remember. Here I committed mistake #1-- I put the wheel back on the bike before inflating the tube. Of course there was a pinch (mistake #2), and of course it flatted. Wheel off the bike, tube out, new tube in, check for pinches-- for real this time-- inflate, wheel back on the bike. About the time I was putting the trainer spindle (?) through the wheel I heard dripping. What was that? It was my handlebar spilling my beer all over the windowsill (mistake #3). So much for drinking on a schoolnight! But I was sure the hard part was over. All I had left to do was throw Lucy on the trainer and rearrange my closet-sized apartment to fit the new piece of furniture.

I clearly overestimated my trainer and furniture-moving expertise (mistake #4). I couldn't get the bike to get on the trainer because I had the rubby thingy all the way jacked up from moving it to Saint Louis and didn't realize it. The cat was playing with the front wheel holder. I was frazzled, and it wasn’t pretty. After some time, a broken futon (and a broken bed for me!), and lots of cursing, I had everything worked out. It was shameful how much of an ordeal it was-- and we shall never speak of it again.

Are you ready for Friday?

Guess who passed the patent bar today?

2007-10-13T16:04:00.000-05:00

Me! Woo hoo!

They call it a provisional pass, but I don't think I'm in any danger of losing my right of passage (ha!). It wasn't as hard as I was expecting.

Look for a post after my writing assignment is turned in Monday and I've sufficiently recovered or celebrated my weekend accomplishments. *wink wink*

Why oh why can't I stay vertical on a bike?

2007-09-27T11:50:00.000-05:00

I wish I had pictures for you, but I don't. All I have is a whiny story. So here goes:

Last Sunday I was set to ride with my new friend Sam. (Sam's fast. As a testament to his fastness, Sam did a long run before we met up to ride. I met Sam at George's going away party-- since you asked and all) I haven't really ridden much since moving to St. Louis, which seems wrong because the roads are littered with cyclists. I could easily write a very long post about how the mid-sized midwest kicks the rest of the country's butt, but I'm still trying to convince myself that I don't love St. Louis. I think it may be too late though-- there's a reason I came back, right? Anyway, Sam was gonna show me the ropes of riding in the Lou.

So we set out. From my front door. Our pace was pretty leisurely, which relieved me since I was being characteristically freaked out, worried-I'm-too-slow Mishele. After about 12 miles we turned around to head home, and at 20 miles we stopped at a gas station so Sam could get a snack; apparently it's not fun to do a long run then ride around without having something to eat. So we stop, he eats, we go to get back on the road...

and I fall over. Going 1 mile an hour. I surprisingly ended up with nary a scratch, but I did pick up the nastiest bruise I've had in recent memory in the middle of my thigh. It'd be a pretty picture to add to this post since it's so many pretty colors-- red, brown, magenta, purple, indigo, blue. If I didn't know better I would have thought that when I fell I was really just putting a painful temporary tattoo on myself.

The rest of the ride was fine-- I successfully clipped in and out at every light (no small feat because there are a lot of lights-- I need to offer some defense here), we got home, my pride still hurt, and I buried myself in my books. But as I was heading to bed it occurred to me that my history of first impression is falling over. My first ride ever with Greyhound I tipped over at my car after 70 miles of success. K saw every time the bollards in George Bush Park got the best of me this spring. My first ride on Lucy ended in a fall right in front of the start line of the first crit race at the Picnic Loop. What the heck? Do you have any idea how often I've replaced my freaking bar end tape? (both sides currently need it now but I'm too cheap to buy more.) Why can't I ride like I do all the times I'm alone, all the rides with friends? Some impression I make-- both on my new friends and my body. :-(

Gimme a double straight up

2007-09-14T16:17:00.001-05:00

Does anyone know how to train for a double ironman?

Seriously. Anyone? I'm thinking I want to have a go at it. Next year. But I want to use my Louisville training if possible, so if you know anything about whether I can do an Ironman and then do a double 5 weeks later, that'd be great-- please email me!

I'm thinking it's doable; after all, Going Long says if you're going to be a d-bag and do two ultra races in a season, you shouldn't peak twice but rather should train, taper, race, rest, race (I think... I actually think GL's a snoozefest and have been in the first or second chapter for 2+ years). Besides, the double wouldn't be for bragging rights since normal people don't understand the difference between an IM and an IIMM. I just want to do it for me.

Let me know if you've been holding information out on me, okay? Thanks.

P.S. Want to hear how silly I am? Most of the time I could give a rat's hiney if someone beats me. Hey, I'm slow, and I'm genuinely okay with that. Nevertheless, there's a woman here I call StL swimmer chick, and she whooped my ass in the pool 3 weeks ago, in her last swim before her first ironman in Wisconsin. Still, I was (no, I am) 90% sure I could take her if I trained for it, so I got uncharacteristically competitive with her... and then she swam a 1:00 WI swim and finished the whole thing in under 12 hours. Shyeah. I'm an idiot. Well, I did the same thing with a tough cookie named Gina from Longview. She's the youngest to do a double iron and is doing the triple this year, but she's also done Sunmart (which I did... sorta) and IM Arizona. And like swimmer chick, Gina totally kicks my butt-- by like an hour or two in a 50k and by 90 minutes in AZ. Why can't I be competitive with normal people? With friends or enemies? Why complete strangers that are little tri beasts?

Hm, gotta go-- sink is backing up? I swear I'm moving into the Ritz next year.

Okay so maybe Wisconsin doesn't suck

2007-09-10T16:39:00.000-05:00

Hmm. That's going a little too far. I will concede that perhaps I hate the entire state because of a general bitter, bitter cold that never left me one Sunday evening last September. But you know what? People there still drive like dips. And the air makes my eyes stay red. And have you heard about their winters? Brr. What's more, have you heard their radio stations?

Those things aside, I take back my general sucky review of the state. Wisconsin is... okay. From April to August. Sometimes it's fine in September like it was this weekend, but I'm not going to go too far in my compliments here. I headed up north on Friday night to see some superstars of the triathlon variety-- I met some of the internet big dogs and watched a true big dog PR in 10:freaking36. I dropped a pro as a catcher. I almost punched someone for making fun of a wayward swimmer, but then vehemently spouted off about how someone who can't swim 1.2 miles in 2.33 hours is a selfish witch and an enormous liability to the entire sport (uh, sorry if it's you... but you are. Pick up duathlons or get a swim coach). I swam on Saturday (woo!). I watched transition clear out of people, clear out of bikes, then fill right back up with them again. I cheered. I handed out bags in transition just so I could see when people were getting in. I accidentally ruined lots of finishers videos because the catcher boss told us to catch people as soon as the pictures were snapped (but if he'd mentioned I'd get on camera I'd have put on some lipstick and some revealing shorts *wink wink*). On more than one occasion I almost teared up, but my lack of soul prevented such emotional outpour. It was a great trip.

But as for the race, I don't have anything to offer... let the real people talk about their races (I'm a robot). I will just say that 1) I was insanely jealous of the perfect water conditions you lucky racing bums and 2) you should volunteer at an ironman because the subs they feed you are DELICIOUS and you get great parking and 3) if you don't like touching strangers, catching at the finish line probably isn't the best choice of volunteer positions. Still, it was an awesome experience and I'll do it again. And now, after seeing it on the other side, I think I can say the same thing about Ironman Wisconsin; I'll do it again. In fact, I'd be doing it again in 2008 if I hadn't already said yes to an iron proposal over Labor Day weekend.

Anyway, I just wanted to say hello. Thanks to everyone for being so nice in person and not saying anything like, "WOW I didn't recognize you because in the two pictures in your blog you look so ridiculous I thought you were photoshopped." That was sweet. It was nice to see the faces behind the laptops, to get a feel for how real and unreal folk are. And to the Ironmen? Wow. Congratulations on crossing the line-- you're a tough bunch. Now get some sleep and enjoy some free time!

Mid 70s? No rain? Is this the same course?!

2007-09-06T18:00:00.001-05:00

This isn't a law school post. Why? Because actual law school has kept me busy enough that I don't have time (okay, minor exaggeration... I've had a rough second week of school since I spent hours this week looking at new computers). I suppose it's only interesting to me anyway; law school's been done before. It just happens to be like an academic nirvana for me personally. Maybe later I'll put you to sleep with it, but now I only have time for an Ironman Wisconsin post.

I'm heading out tomorrow to drive up (grr after a Contracts makeup class during freaking happy hour and what should have been my third hour of driving). The forecast? Beautiful. The race cast? Beautiful. I'm so excited to see old faces and meet some new ones, like the elusive Wendy and Brent, both of whom I missed in Arizona. I'm stoked for my volunteer meeting on Saturday. I'm stoked for some wannabe Gatorade swim action (around 9:30 on Saturday-- anyone wanna meet up for a quick dip??). Basically, I'm just so freaking stoked to be watching the drama-- real or melo-- unfold before me. It's gonna be a blast.

The only bad news? I can't stay til the end of the race anymore. I'm only volunteering at the finish line until 8 pm, then am driving home around 9 or so-- whenever my favorite Houston virgin gets that m-dot cherry popped. Call me crazy but the idea of getting up at 4 AM after volunteering til 12:15 AM had me a little nervous about dying on the road and/or missing my 10 AM Torts class. Sorry kids, but school comes first.

Speaking of which, I have to get some stuff done before I head up north. Sleep well and see you on the course or at the finish line!

(Oh, if you want to me up, feel free to email me or use my cell number if you have it. I swear I'll pick it up this weekend!)

Somebody explain this to me.

2007-09-03T20:40:00.000-05:00

Today I went for a run. There was absolutely nothing notable about it. Now my toe feels broken.

What?

I got up and of course did not feel like running, so I walked the .25 miles to Forest Park; I figured if I didn't want to run by the time I got there I could always just walk a few miles and enjoy the day. Once I got to the park, however, I felt duly inspired to run (since I couldn't get my heart rate over 95 by walking briskly... that and I felt like a soccer mom) (not that there's anything wrong with soccer moms) (though I do hate soccer).

I ran three or so miles at 9:00-9:15 pace. I didn't trip. I didn't roll my ankle. I wasn't startled, and I didn't have a single misstep. No bikes ran me over. The only thing even remotely interesting is that I saw my Legal Practice professor walking her dog, and the second half of my run was 8 seconds slower than the first half. After my run I again walked home, thankful I'd gotten in my 4th consecutive daily workout, which is pretty good considering I haven't done that since, well, May. Maybe May. More likely April.

Anyway, around 20 minutes into my run my big toe started hurting out of absolutely nowhere. I figured it was being weird then, but now it still hasn't gone away-- it hurts to wiggle, flex, stretch, and bear weight. It's slightly swollen, possibly discolored if the lighting is crappy enough, and refuses to be put into a shoe. Hey, maybe it's my shoes!

Except my shoes should be broken in (~40 miles on 'em) but not breaking down. What's more, I wear these shoes (Saucony Hurricane 8s) about 75% of the time I run because they're pretty and pink, but not a wussy pink. It is true that the Sauconys are B widths and my Mizunos (Wave Riders in mens because they're better looking) are D widths, but I haven't experienced any trouble in either shoe since I bought them in June or July.

Perhaps I've been working out too much... except of those 4 workouts in a row, two were swims and the other was an embarrassingly short ride, and none were especially intense. Not a lot of stress on the big toe there, especially since it didn't hurt until well into the run.

My socks? Fancy wicking ones that weren't bunched up. Breakfast? Brand of deodorant? Heck, I'm out of ideas. Anyone have any tips for me?

Off to ice and advil I guess... man I suck.

Next post will probably be all law school if you wanna skip it. Look for it once I get ahead enough for WI to squirt it out of my brain.

Master Plans

2007-08-27T10:17:00.000-05:00

Today is my very first day of law school. And what am I doing? Reviewing my reading? Fretting about classes? Nope.

I'm blogging.

The truth is I'm sitting pretty with my work this week and I only have one class today. I'm nervous, and I have hours til class to get progressively more so. Yeesh!

This won't be too long (I actually do want to get some more reading done before this afternoon...) but it is important. I have two plans I want to share in hopes of being more accountable for them in the upcoming year/years. Plan 1: the don't get enormously fat plan. Last winter I beefed up to 12 pounds over my racing weight from Wisconsin and Arizona. I think that's simply revolting from a 24-year-old, and I don't intend to do it again. Here's my plan: leave law school at what you came in (152) and you can have any bike you want, Mishele. I can't be sure of my financial situation of course, but that's not the point (I suppose I don't have to buy it the minute I graduate). The point is to have the permission to get whatever the heck I want.

I told the plan to K first. Her response? "If you're the same girl that's going into law school, you're not going to buy a $6,000 bike." And she's right; I believe you have to earn your toys. So maybe I'll just get a little step up and sell Lucy to a newbie. Maybe I'll buy a decent road bike. Doesn't matter right now does it?

The only problem with the plan is I've lost 4 pounds since I moved here. I don't have as much time to eat as I did when I worked, though I suspect I'll start eating again soon. In the short term I'm chilling out with the workouts and am down to 2 mile runs because I want to take it easy and make time for some physical therapy. My feet just haven't been the same all year and I'm afraid. I'm looking to do a half marathon in January-February and maybe, if all goes well, the St. Louis marathon in March. StL was my first marathon (untrained of course, but that time it was on accident), so I'm hoping to break my time of 4:52 from 2004. If the plan works as well as it should I hope to break it by an hour... we'll see.

And Plan 2:
IM Louisville. Hey you Cincinnatians-- get your hineys down to watch me race. Just once. Please? I signed up and had to pay with my debit card, which was strangely more painful than paying with my credit card. Maybe it was just stressful because I don't know the card number and was worried about some 2-minute sell out craziness like Lake Placid (like Louisville would ever be as cool and popular as Lake Placid). I don't know. Anyway, I'll see you kids back in Ironform on August 31, 2008... hopefully I don't gain 10 pounds of muscle in the meantime. ;-)

Woo hoo! Off to study/learn/be humiliated? :)

The most embarrassing picture in my tri life

2007-08-13T15:22:00.000-05:00

And in my real life. I'd rather be running-- nekked, pale, and jiggly-- next to supermodels than have this on the internet. It's so bad I have to acknowledge it first lest someone think I think it's okay to look like this.

Triathlete gets laughed off course, cries for days

Go ahead and laugh. I'm already a step (and a laugh... and a tear) ahead of you.

You're it

2007-08-13T15:17:00.000-05:00

Somebody tagged me. Since I have to get my stuff moved to the ‘Lou tomorrow and get oriented, I’m too distracted to do a great job with this post. But the good news? Despite the fact I’ve been out of town the past two weekends, I can’t get into my new apartment til Saturday and am moving up on Wednesday, my crap isn’t packed, I haven’t gone to IKEA, and I haven’t returned my library books, I’m still sane. Did someone drug me?

Jobs I've had
receptionist
office servant
office assistant (noticably better than office servant)
lifeguard
swim instructor
SAT instructor
ham seller
mystery shopper
hostess
chemist
engineer

Sweet sweet movies
Gone with the Wind
Thomas Crowne Affair (old or new)
Donnie Darko
The Little Mermaid
Super Troopers
Zoolander

My guilty pleasures
Chipotle
kitty kisses
instant messenger
farting at work
laughing about farting at work
Soda
tri gear lusting
m-dot
Godiva
singing in the car

Places I’ve lived
Cincinnati/Blue Ash/Loveland, OH
St. Louis, MO
Houston, TX
Orlando, FL

TV shows I enjoy
Scrubs
Desperate Housewives
The Daily Show/Colbert Report
Law & Order: SVU or CI

Favorite foods
Donatos
Kolaches
bananas
carrots
Original flavor goldfish
Diet Pepsi
Peanut butter Twix

Websites I visit daily
houstonracing.com/forums
Stuff on my Cat
Le blogs to the right

Body parts I’ve injured
ITB/hip/knees/shoulders (I suck)
Foot (It sucks)
Big toe (Broken once or twice)
Lip? (Stitched up twice)

Nicknames I’ve earned
Bruno
Mitch
Jazzy
Shelly
the unforgiving Shelly Belly
Sister Michelle (For some reason in the 4th grade I thought it’d be cool to pretend I was a nun, and my nerdy friends came along for the ride. Yeah, I don’t get it either.)

Dreams I harbor
Cat farm
Early retirement
Tiny house
20 mph average
Pooping, burping, boogery babies
Developed sense of fashion
Glorious career success (though probably not at the same time as poopy babies)

Small joys

2007-08-07T11:29:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a big day for me. I got home from work, got the mail, and found my USPTO registration application accepted (having, of course, spelled out my middle name this time). I also scheduled my exam date; when doing so, it appeared that I could not have taken the exam on the date I’d originally planned anyway even if my application had been right the first time, which was something of a comfort. My mistake was not so much that I spelled my name wrong as I had listed my work address as the mailing address, and I daresay it sat a floor below me for a number of days before making its way to my inbox. Still, it’s nice to know I didn’t screw up my summer for not reading the “name” line directions--I messed it up because I sent it somewhere I was not directly in charge of the mail.

After scheduling my test--and after much debate with Craig over which date to choose--I sat down to read Harry Potter. I was only supposed to read two chapters, but somehow I indulged myself much further, past more than one good stopping point. Around 11:15 (2 hours of reading) I decided I simply couldn’t wait another day to finish it, so I read til almost 3 in the morning. It is finished. And even though I tried to ruin the ending for myself by skimming the last few pages, I failed in my quest; the ending wasn’t what I remembered skimming at all. I won’t spoil anything by mentioning any details; suffice to say I am mildly disappointed and quite disapproving of the lucky Number Seven. That wasn’t a children’s book I read.

Story about Harry Potter: you may remember a couple months back how much of a tizzy I put myself into by reading the first six books back-to-back within a 3-4 week period. Well, in my zeal to support the library I refused to buy the seventh book, insisting I shouldn’t pay to read such a popular publication. A week before the book was released I put it on hold at my local branch with a keen sense of smugness--I’d outsmarted everyone! Unfortunately I was not the only person to think of this because I was 383rd in the hold line. I figured I wouldn’t get off the list til after I left for school and even considered buying a copy. Good thing I didn’t! I quickly moved from 383 to 260, then to 66--all within a week. By the 31st of July I had the thing in my hands. Isn’t that impressive? Go Houston Library!

Ah, sweet peace. I can finish this summer staying sane, something I’ve been practicing for 8 days now. I’m starting to think it suits me quite well.

Race Review: River Cities Tri

2007-08-06T13:55:00.000-05:00

River Cities Tri-- Shreveport, LA
800m swim
18 mile bike
3.1 mile run

I have no clever title for you. Sorry.

Anyway, I headed to Shreveport, LA this past weekend for the River Cities Tri, the "oldest tri in the South". Some of you may think an Ironman is tough to get into, but here in the South we take our tris seriously-- this race sold out its 1300 spots in less than three hours this year. This race is so well put on it's crazy: great competition, nice course, reasonable lines, great sales at SportSpectrum at packet pickup, and loads and loads of swag (totally sweet nice bag, New Balance tech t, New Balance running shorts, tech socks, tech hat, t-shirt, sunglasses that actually look cool, poster, bottle of Amino Vital whatevers, gu, amino vital liquid drinky thingy, water bottle, and a water gun). After hearing the H-town ladies rave about it last year, I signed up this year as soon as I woke up on the day registration opened.

Saturday I met up with some of the tri hotties (and a husband) to caravan to the race. The whole trip Lisa was warning us about how long the lines were at packet pickup, saying it could take up to 2 hours to get out of there if the line was really going. We were resigned to waiting since we had nothing better to do, but it turns out this year was different-- we got in line and out within maybe 5 minutes. After checking out the store to cash in on some good deals we packed into the car again and headed to the hotel.

The only crappy thing about this race is the location. From packet pickup to the host hotel was about 30 minutes, and from the hotel to the race site it was another 30 minutes. Not very convenient. On the other hand, the host hotel was reasonably priced and pretty nice, so the drives were tolerable.

Anyway, we checked into the hotel, settled in, went to dinner (which of course took forever) and got to bed around 10, 10:30 on Saturday night. Soon enough it was 5:15 the next morning and we were packing up our things to go; we decided to just use the outdoor showers at the race site to clean up afterward instead of trekking back to the hotel, unloading the bikes, showering, and loading everything up again.

The race site was great. True to the James Bond theme for this year's race, girls with water guns peeked around trees as we entered the park; there was also a gaggle of women in eveningwear and a James Bond in a tux waving hellos to the incoming cars. There was plenty of room to park (and the line to get in was only about 15 minutes, which compared to last year was a marked improvement) with plenty of facilities, and a roomy transition area.

The race started at 8:00, with all the dude waves going first (except Clydesdales and relays). My wave--15-29 women-- was the first of the chick waves at 8:24. I started in the front row and reasonably far out from the inside line of buoys. As we started, I was braced to get beaten up in the hot, murky, black water but again I was pleasantly surprised... my dog fight/swim was nonexistent. No one hit me, no one kicked me, no one ran into me except one girl, and once we realized where the other was, we swam side-by-side to the turn buoy ~300m out. Isn't that amazing?

I was swimming steadily but not too hard. Unfortunately for my wave, the oldest group of men was also swimming steadily and not too hard-- we destroyed the wave ahead of us! Before I even made it to the first turn buoy I was dodging wrinkly slow guys. I swam a straight line throughout the course, but still I had an unbelievably crappy time, and I think the swim/obstacle course is part of the reason. 4 minutes (5? 6? whatever it was) is not enough time between old man wave and young woman wave. I climbed out just over 16 minutes for 800m (wtf?) and hit the timing mat at 16:42. Lame! I expected to come out around 15:00! On the other hand, I still finished in the top 20% of my AG on the swim, so it's possible the course was long.

Transitions were SO long in this place-- maybe 100-120 yds to transition, 80-100 yd long transition area, then another 60-75 yds to the bike mount line. I was glad I didn't leave my shoes on my bike!

The bike was a rolling hill course with only a few short steep(ish) climbs, but a lot of turns. I was hoping to hold 18 mph for this race. Why not the 19 mph goal that I had for all my other sprints? Well, 1) I wasn't making the 19 mph in previous races and haven't been on my bike very much recently, and 2) this was an 18 mile bike course instead of the normal 11-13 mile one. Nothing much to say other than the course was pretty, I refused to get in my small chainring for the hills because I'm a macho MORON, and I lost my chain once. This pissed me off to no end, because I've been losing it a lot this summer (though it stopped for awhile...). I suppose I only lost like 30 seconds, but it felt like the end of the world when I had to stop. I was close to missing my goal at 12 miles, so I picked it up the last 6 and came in 59:something, 18.3 mph pace. A small victory!

Anyway, the bike was fun. I brought along Accelerade again for my aero drink, but this time I also brought a bottle of water since it was supposed to be in the upper 90s and I figured 20 oz of liquid might not be enough. Unlike Webster Du #3 though, I did not get ill on the bike. The Accelerade (Citrus Grapefruit, the hands-down yummiest premixed flavor they have)(by the way, I think this is weird since I think real grapefruit tastes like vomit) does act funny in my body, though-- for some reason I can't burp when I drink it on the bike. Because of this I have to be careful not to drink too quickly, but so long as I feel good I don't really care about that; I could certainly stand to pay attention to my fluid consumption a little more. I also changed my pre-race breakfast from fruit + slim fast + a bottle of Accelerade to clif bar(f) + bottle of Accelerade, but that was only because I forgot to bring my own breakfast and had to bum a bar off someone. And as much as I like hippies and their organic foods, I can't eat clif bars. Will that get me kicked out of triathlon?

I've digressed. Back to the bike. As I pulled into the park for the last fraction of a mile I opted to take one foot out of my shoe to speed up my transition. I only do one foot because I can't take my left hand off the bike. I know, I'm a crappy cyclist with crappy handling skills but I just can't do it, and normally the one-foot trick works quite well. Unfortunately, I only undid the Velcro on my right shoe-- I never actually took my foot out. Once at the dismount line I almost fell over since I had no free foot, and THEN I couldn’t get my dang foot outta my dang shoe. Do I suck at life or what?

Other than that shoe incident T2 was fine. Again, it was a long trek to the run course, and I was expecting to feel bad again as I've been feeling pretty icky on my tri runs recently. The run was a 5k through the park, mostly under shade with a couple gentle rises. The course is set up so you can see the competition around you and I saw all the girls I came with and other Houstonians, always a welcome sight. My goal for this run was to break 30:00 (9:41 pace), and with that in mind I set off. Mile 1 found me at 8:53 (woo!), mile 2 at 8:50 (double woo!) and I finished up in 27:29, 8:51 pace. Not stellar but not too bad either, and way better than I was expecting!

I ended up finishing in 1:46:52 and 23 of 64 in my age group and making all my goals but the one for the swim. Since I came more for the race experience and to hang out with my tri buds one last time, it was good enough for me.

Afterward the group chatted, drank some beers (I had three, beating my goal of two for this race!) and swiped some Ozarka Sport water (that spit is gooood), and then a couple of us took a shower in the outdoor shower near the lake. When one chick and I arrived, the 2 showers had about 8 women, and most were soaping up like we were planning to do rather than just rinsing off. The experience was so weird-- everyone was laughing and sharing bathing supplies and holding the shower lever for other women. I fully expected someone to take off her top and start making out with someone it was so typical-male-daydreamy. Alas, reality was no so colorful. Once we were showered and changed we hit transition to get our, packed up the car, and headed back to the great state o' Texas.

In short-- great race, great company, great swag. You should totally do this race if you ever get the chance. The end!

P.S. You'll notice there are no pictures of these so-called "tri hotties", nor any pictures of my sweet race goodies. Don't hold your breath waiting for them, either; I have no camera since I broke mine in June, and Craig's is in New Jersey with him. I’m afraid you'll have to use your imagination in my blog-- disappointing I’m sure.

The (real) end!

The newest member of my family

2007-08-06T07:25:00.001-05:00

The first weekend in July Craig and I went to Dallas, and this post was written one cheerful Friday afternoon a week later...
Saturday we drove up after the Kids Tri to catch a Rangers game and hang out with a college roommate Jackie; the whole reason this particular weekend was chosen was to get a cooler being handed out at the game as a promotional item. Well, we missed the coolers, at Saturday's game-- which of course annoyed me to NO end-- and went back to Jackie's house to hang out for awhile. On Sunday Craig and I were heading back to Houston after some yummy brunch and a trip to the Sixth Floor Museum, which covers the JFK assassination info/theories/whatnot.

As we got in line to get into the museum, someone mentioned there was a stray outside. We looked just in time to see a furry kitten scurry down the stairs and under a car in the parking lot. The kitten looked to be about the size that Gary was when we first got him at six weeks, so I begged Craig and Jackie to let us catch him, or at least try for 5 minutes. The kitten, wise to our plan, twice climbed onto the struts of the front wheel of a Sebring, just out of reach. The third time we tried to get it, it climbed into the engine area where we couldn't even see it, effectively forcing us to catch him; after all, if he died after being scared into some moving car parts, I'd be responsible.

About an hour into this ordeal the owners of the car came out, and we asked if they'd set off the alarm to scare the kitten out-- and they did. The kitten didn't budge. Then we popped the hood to see that the kitten was under the engine block. The car owners were very nice about the situation-- what a blessing to have nice folks around, huh? Finally, we risked starting the engine to get him out, and out he came. The guy driving the car slowly reversed, exposing the kitten under the front bumper, til we caught him under a parking cone.

As you can imagine, he wasn't too happy. He was spitting and hissing like a snake, and he managed to get Jackie and me with his claws when we tried to nab him. Finally a parking attendant got him into the canvas bag Jackie had in her car, and we took him home.

The kitten looked to be about 4 weeks old. He was filthy, covered in fleas, and his eyes and nose were gooey. His stomach was jutting out like a starving kid in a UNICEF ad, but the rest of him was skin and bone; you could feel every rib, every vertebra in his spine, all his awkward hip bones. He was more bird than kitten! The pad of one of his paws was also burned, exposing angry pink flesh. Basically he looked ready to be on his way out, and I declared as much several times... there was no sense in anyone getting attached to a goner. But once in the bag he was docile, drinking milk we fed him from a straw and from dipping some leaves in the milk bottle. We cleaned him up, put him in a box, and drove home to Houston. He slept on my lap most of the time, purring and snuggling.

When we hit Conroe, the little guy took a dump in the box we'd started him out in. At first it was funny (EW! The cat pooped in the car! Gosh it stinks! Ahahahaha!) as we prepared to get off the highway. But once we saw the poo-- full of twigs, an entire berry, and distinct roundworms-- it wasn't so funny anymore. I cried the entire way back home. It just seemed so overwhelmingly unfair: here was this cat, fighting like hell to make it and despite his struggles was still not a mean kitty, and all these vile little things were sucking the miserable life from him. Life isn't fair. But for a darned domesticated and reasonably helpless animal, life should be fair.

After a LONG ride and lots of tears we got home and set up the kitten in our small bathroom (it's like a 6'x7' room including the tub) and gave him a bath to drown some of those fleas. I slept in the bathroom with him so he wouldn't get lonely; after all, we'd just ripped this guy from under a car... the least we could do was be hospitable.

Hello tiny kitty!

So help me, if anyone comments on how fat Gary is I'll delete your snarky little jab. His skin is really loose (AND he's on a diet). Lily is checking out the new addition in the background.

The Monday vet trip wasn't very fun. I came in and the vet listed everything that was wrong with him and everything that could be wrong with him. The vet was very frowny and seemed to be prepping me to put the kitten down, which I found shocking since we'd already started treating his eye and he looked so cute and fuzzy having been bathed; how could such a purry fuzzball be dying? The vet whisked him away for 45 long minutes, while I sat pretending to read a Dog Fancy and crying. Still.

Turns out that old bat veterinarian wasn't right. Kitten tested negative for FLV, didn't seem to have any fleas, and was given deworming stuff that would have those roundworms dead in the litter box by the morning. He was also about 7-8 weeks old, not the 4 we'd originally suspected-- that's how underfed he was! He told me to keep him separate from my cats, gave me some food, antibiotics, and eye ointment, and an appointment in 2 weeks. None of this happy news was as gratifying as the congratulations he offered for the addition to my family.

Geronimo coming home from the vet

Now we have a frisky, fuzzy kitten named Geronimo (Gerry for short) in our bathroom. He makes training a bit more challenging because we try to keep someone in the house all day to play with him and the other cats, but they're so great to be around that it's no real trouble. And I'm so worried that his naggingly cloudy eye will never heal and that his cute kitten sneeze is far more ominous than it sounds. But how much more can I fret? If he's too sick to make it, at least he had a couple weeks of love and regular meals. If not, well... as far as I'm concerned he may be the best thing to come out of Dallas.

P.S. We never made it to the museum. Maybe next time.

I wrote the above at lunch, and was planning to add some pictures and get the post on my blog once I got home. But once I saw him that evening Gerry wasn't better-- he was way worse. Both his eyes were getting cloudy again, and he was sneezing all the time. Instead of being satisfied that my original dead-cat-walking prediction was coming true I was devastated. I spent the weekend crying in the bathroom with the kitten. I got so desperate that I begged Craig to take me to Walmart at like 1 AM to get the freaking kitten a freaking humidifier.

This experience was very disturbing for me, and I decided that if this is what it's like to have feelings, I'm glad I only have them a few times a year. I try to stay reasonable-- if not a little cold-- but there is something about physical suffering that really eats at my tiny, hidden soul. I'll leave the feeling to the rest of you for the most part.

After a few days the kitten again started getting better. His right eye weeps a bit and it's a slightly different color green (he's also on Lysine supplements to help with that... and yes. My cat is on supplements and I can't even get a one-a-day vitamin in my diet), but it won't spread to the other cats since they also already have the virus. [Virus= herpes. Like 80% of cats have it, as my others do, but it lies dormant in most animals unless they're sick or stressed. Just wanted you to know.] Geronimo is now a 3.5 lb snuggle bug of love, though he attacks Gary too much. I'm taking the kitten to school next week in hopes he'll calm down just a little over the next year. Don't worry-- I'm sure to keep you posted.

Geronimo last week, being a kitten. :)

Sleeping with Craig, though getting progressively more irritated that I won't stop taking pictures of him while he's sleeping. Geronimo won't make it as a model.

Seriously... was I born in 1907?

2007-07-30T13:58:00.000-05:00

Me [modeling a skirt in a store fitting room]: Do I look like a whore in this skirt?
(I need/want a new skirt to replace my ankle-length, sits-on-my-natural-waist skirt I got in college)
Craig: Mishele, you're in a knee length jean skirt.

Me: So no?

Craig: Sigh.

Put your hands where I can see them—hanging on the wrong side of the law

2007-07-27T10:45:00.001-05:00

Around 1 AM this morning Craig and I got the last load of stuff from our old apartment. Included in the last load, of course, were the odds and ends that refused to be packed—our welcome mat, the odd picture, canvas grocery bags, and kitties. Our cats do not like stuff slowly disappearing from their home, but even more than that they loathe riding in the car. Within seconds of starting the engine I was listening to a chorus of meows and whimpers while surrounded by weird crap from our apartment. In all this commotion, I forgot to turn on my headlights while I was in the brightly lit parking garage; fortunately, Craig had my back and said something to me as I pulled out onto the street. I turned them on, cruised up to a red light, and turned right onto an empty San Felipe.

Seconds later there’s a cop car behind me with his lights on. What could I possibly have done wrong already? Did I seem drunk? Is it illegal to drive with two cats? Did I have a tail light out? My mind flashed to a time my mom got a ticket for driving without her lights on, which was silly--she’d turned out of a parking lot and 10 yards later was pulled over on a road so bright that headlights wouldn’t have made a difference. But I was only without my lights through a private driveway--isn’t that okay?

I pulled over (and in true kitty fashion, the cats meowed even louder at having stopped) and started freaking out. Before this I’d been pulled over 3 times: once for no reason by some meanie who made me start crying after he left, once for running a red light by a nice guy who let me go because I seemed really scared and he thought that was funny, and once for speeding by some dude just doing his job... I guess. I’m 1 for 3 with nice cops. The thing is, I don’t need a cop to be nice and let me off the hook for breaking the law; when I run red lights, I should be ticketed. When I speed, I guess I should be ticketed as well (I’m not a huge fan of speed limits, especially since I don’t drive very fast-- my truck is incapable of it). All I want from a cop-MisheleK interaction is some bleeping respect. I am not used to being treated like trash in my everyday life; for the most part folks are nice to me at the gas station and the bank, at work and at the gym. I’m a human. Others are humans. It all works out nicely. That is what I want from a police officer--basic human dignity. I realize I can’t have it because life is what it is, but a girl can dream.

So I pulled over and dude comes over to my open window. “What’d I do wrong?” I asked.
“Well, if you want to be really nit-picky, you didn’t come to a complete stop at that red light. You should have stopped all the way instead of just rolling through.”
I was slightly annoyed since I was as close to being stopped as you can be without completely stopping--and the road was a ghost town. Still, I brightened since the odds of a cop ticketing for something he refers to as “nit-picky” were in my favor.

There were howling cats in the background. “You moving?” he asks, flashing his torch through my cab.
“Yup.”
“Well, I pulled you over because you pulled out of the garage without your lights on--” (frick!) “--and there have been a series of car thefts in the area. Would you mind showing me your license and proof of insurance?”
Would I mind? Would I mind? Heck no I don’t mind! Thanks for asking! Whew! My shaky hands flew to get the documents. As I handed them over I asked him if I looked suspicious. He shrugged.

After checking my stuff he let me go and I called back to him that I’d be sure to stop at that corner from now on (especially since I’m never going back to it). I drove on to catch up with Craig, who’d waited for me, and thought of how crazy it was he asked if I would mind giving him proof I wasn’t stealing my own car.

Now I'm batting .500... and I’ll take it.

Du it, man: Webster Duathlon #3 Race Review

2007-07-25T13:26:00.000-05:00

This was my first duathlon: a 2 mile run, 12 mile flat bike, and a 2 mile run. I won the entry back in February and have been looking forward to this race ever since. I've also been mentally preparing to get my butt handed to me; duathlons aren't as popular as tris, but the folks who do them are way faster. After racing I decided that duathlon folks are simply tougher-- even the sprint du's are not for the faint of heart.

Anyway, Craig came with me to this race. He's not a fan of idiotic tri cheering and I'm not a fan of someone coming along with me who doesn't race, so it was his first non-IM race. I thought he'd like it better because du's are supposed to be different-- most folks don't bring a cheering squad and the races are pretty small. We showed up about an hour before the start, got my packet, put my bike in transition, and just hung out. I thought there seemed to be more people than I'd expected, and there were; this was the biggest du of the series with 160 folks coming out. Crap! How was I supposed to place in my age group if more people showed up?!

After a .5 mile jog warmup and some stretching I headed to the line. Dude in charge told us about the course-- out-and-back run, two loop bike, and out-and-back run-- then just said "go" and started us off. It doesn’t get more low-key than that I guess!

Run 1: My goal was to run 8:30-8:45 miles. Starting out going fast is hard! Swimming is a way easier way to start a race. I was ready to start walking within 3 minutes, but naturally didn't. A few folks passed me on the way out, but for the most part it appeared I started in the right part of the pack. I also saw a few HRTCers (naturally ahead of me), so that was nice. At the turnaround I grabbed some water and went to pass some guy about my age. He refused to let me pass him, so I was forced to run with him the entire mile back to T1. Men-- such jerks! Anyway, I soon forgot him when I got to T1-- I've never been so happy to get on the bike!
Run 1 time: 16:41 (8:21 pace)
Run 1 pic: Do I look happy?

T1: My transitions were more about fashion: T1 was headband to bike helmet, and T2 would be bike helmet to hat. It's important to look your best at every opportunity. Anyway, I grabbed another water and walked to my bike. I was spent after the run and needed a rest. Still, I owned T1 because I switched my pedals (a nice lend from a friend also racing) to cages so I could wear my running shoes the whole time; I was in and out in 0:37. Woo!

The bike: two loops of fun. My goal was again 19 mph pace. On the way out we had a tailwind, and the way back was naturally a headwind. I passed a surprising number of people, so that was cool. I also got passed by a few, maybe about 5-- some who'd passed me on the run and would again pass me on the second run, but whose transitions were slow on account of the shoe issue. Suckers! Anyway, the bike was pretty, you know, bike-like. The only problem was my tummy was bothering me a lot so I couldn't eat or drink anything after about 15 minutes. My stomach has been going haywire recently (it's where I store my stress-- lots of room around there!), so I don't want to blame it on my new Accelerade nutrition plan. Maybe I had too much Accelerade before the race? Perhaps my race breakfast is incompatible with it? Anything is possible. The thing is I've never had Accelerade except for post-workout recovery/hydration until this race; more experimentation is definitely needed. That's about it for the bike except that I kept going back and forth with some stupid 14 year old kid. He was annoying the crap out of me because the first time I passed him he was drafting off his dad. Then 3 minutes later he and his dad completely blew by me-- what the crap? I caught the kid again on the second loop, and near the end he passed me... and then kept looking behind him to see where I was, swerving into the middle of the lane. I was annoyed and didn't want to get passed on the bike by some chump kid, so I surged on the street before T2 to beat him. A note to all you 14 year olds out there: don’t f*ck with me. (See? Edited for children!)
Bike pace: 18.6 mph Better than the week before, especially since I wasn't in cycling shoes/clips. Woo!
Bike pic: Nice pedals newbie!

T2: I took off my helmet and put on a hat. Nice, huh? :) Out in 0:27.

Run 2: My goal was +20 sec of run 1 pace, so 8:50-9:05 pace. Oof! Can I walk this? Of course the second run was worse than the first. I saw Lisa, cage pedal lender, at the half mile point and she told me they had cold towels at the turnaround. Booya! My goal at this point in the race was to come in under 1:15 (I came out of T2 at 56:xx) and pass three people. By the turnaround I'd caught two, but I ran a 9:14 mile. Crap! I had to get going to make my goal! After a towel and yet another water (don't judge-- it's hot here) I busted my hiney as much as I could to get in by 1:14:something, passing a third guy in the process. My last mile was 8:57, enough to get me in at 1:14:41, 1:14:38 watch time. Celebration!
Run 2 time: 18:11 (9:06 pace)
Run 2 pic: I'm about 400m from finishing, so I eeked out a solitary smile. Courageous I know.

Afterward there were breakfast tacos, beer, soda, and bananas-- a decent spread! I could only handle water a banana, and a diet Coke. Craig and I hung around with some club members, waiting for results. Normally, there's one girl in my age group at these races. She runs sub-7 minute miles both times (or close to it) and bikes at 20+ mph. Of course I had no chance of winning my age group while she was breathing, but 2nd of 2 was good enough for me-- that was my plan. Well, we were in for a huge surprise when results were posted: there were 6 girls in my age group. Dammit!

And at the top of that list: MisheleK. I won my age group and there were actually other girls in it! Sweet! I won a pint glass and a 700 tube, which I gave to Lisa (who came in second in her AG) since I ride 650s and her gracious pedals lend shaved some serious time.

I will definitely start doing dus-- I like tough stuff, and I really want to get better at these. The atmosphere is also a little more my style, so that's cool. I realize now that +20 seconds for the second run is very unrealistic; still, I want to get my run 1 time down a little faster. Maybe a longer warmup would help? I'll try that next time. And that nutrition issue I need to get ironed out before my last tri of the year: River Cities next weekend.

One other slightly related thing I've noticed in my past two races-- there are "real" triathletes at sprints, perhaps more real than ironmen. They're the folks who race, year in and year out, train every week, each season. It's not that one IM they've done that defines them because they're more than that after a decade of races and, perhaps more importantly, gallons of post-race beers. They don't get their panties in a twist over tri technology, and they don't buy a new bike every other year. They're there to race, to live the life. I want to be like that. But it's not going long that can do it-- it's local races, olys and sprints and HIMs, ties to a real racing community instead of a faceless racing giant running faraway events. The truth is that it's excruciating to go fast for any length of time-- I think it's harder than going steady for an IM. I want to do more sprints next year, even with Louisville looming, because they test your mettle in ways a day-long race simply cannot. They make you real. Besides, I know I've got the mental hardware to go long-- but can I go hard? I'm starting to wonder. And I'm going to find out.

I had three beers!: Jeff and Brede's Intergalactic Tri Race Review

2007-07-24T10:59:00.000-05:00

This is two weeks old. My bad. Anyway, J&B's is a sprint run by my tri club: 300m pool swim, 12 mile flat (and fast?) bike, and a 3 mile run. Last year I volunteered--fun, but I wanted to get in there and give it a go this year. It's a sprint, so the race report should be slim...

The swim-- I seeded myself at around a 4:42. I was nervous because I've all but given up swimming this summer, especially because my last pool swim I caught two people, and I didn't want to be getting caught in this race since it sucketh. I needn't have worried though: apparently everyone lied on their swims because I did a very painful 4:59 (probably a 4:49 if you just include the swim and not climbing out and getting across the mat). No one caught me and I caught no one. Yesss!

And here is the best race pic ever. Oooh, and here's the second best ever. Who takes pictures of people while they're getting out of the pool??

Transition-- sucked because I thought I had to move my stuff to the other side of the rack to avoid a penalty. Everyone knows that you have to have your transition towel on the side of your bike touching the ground. But did you know that you have to have the down side of your bike on the same side as the rack number? Me neither! In fact, I don't think anyone really knew that til the head official said something before the race and after transition was closed. However, he also said it is the passing rider's responsibility to get out of the draft zone, which isn't true once you've overtaken someone; it's the slow guy's job to get behind the fast guy. I hope that official learns the freaking rules before he does another race.

The bike-- an out and back. As soon as I hopped on my bike it started raining. Awesome! It poured the entire time, and I had trouble getting any speed between getting pelted by raindrops and being wary of the puddles in the road. I got passed by my new friend Rick (who won his age group and destroyed me on the swim) and a girl in my age group. More on her later. Anyway, I averaged 18.3 mph, not great but not too bad I guess. I really wanted to get 19 mph, but maybe another time.

T2-- fine. I got socks on this time since the cuts on my feet from my last sockless sprint took about a month to heal-- ow!

The run-- really bleeping hurt. It was my slowest sprint run, which could have been because we ran on "grass" (read: swamp) for about a mile of the course. Not too awesome, especially since I was wearing my new and incredibly heavy shoes. Which were ruined by the end of the day. I ran 8:59 minute miles despite my faithful running speedwork every Tuesday. Crap!

Afterward I hung out with K and her tri man (who also won his age group) and hit the kegs as hard as I could. I got in three whole beers! Never mind it was over almost three hours and well before 11:00 am-- I'm a drinking champion! Eventually the weather also cleared up, but not til long after I finished. I felt bad for all the newbies, who started later in the swim on account of their slower seed times, because they were out in the worst of the weather. What kind of first timer experience is that? Anyway, I came in 4th of 27 in my age group; that girl in my age group that passed me on the bike (I tried in vain to reel her in on the run... no dice) was a really fast and accomplished triathlete, and I have no business racing with her. Still, she only came in 3rd-- could I be moving up the food chain?

Three other things about the post race party: K came up to congratulate me on my 3rd place finish. I thought this was suspect since two girls had passed me on the bike and I started 46th, so chances were good that someone was 25-29 ahead of me. Turns out she read the results wrong and I came in fourth, much like I did to my friend on the 4th of July. What goes around comes around!

I also met Jane at the race. She came up to introduce herself and said she read my blog. I danced around like a schoolgirl who needed to tinkle-- 'cause that's how I roll. Smooth, like butter.

Afterward I went to get my stuff from transition and head home. I noticed that everything I owned was not only already mildewing but smelled like actual crap. Turns out that of all the mud on the course, I managed to find the pile of dog poop to step in. Disgusting.

All in all a great race. And a longer report than intended... sorry!

I'm selling any children I have when they're 12

2007-07-13T10:18:00.000-05:00

especially if they're girls. But, I'm willing to buy them back at 17... if there's a discount involved.

Last weekend I was the coordinator for the swim portion of a kids triathlon, and kids from 6 to 13 come out for the race. I have to admit I'm a little afraid of kids because they bite. And poop. And puke. And fall over. But I was at the race in the pool area last year, and no one seemed to make too much of a fuss-- I could handle these kids. My real race concern was starting the kids; it's hard to tell from my obnoxiously dry humor, but I have the weeniest pipsqueaky voice in town-- just think mouse with laryngitis. My voice is actually a main point of conflict with Craig because he can never hear me when I talk on the phone (his phone sucks!!) or in France (must not speak too loud or they'll know we're American and we don't know French!). We may end up divorced because he can't hear me, or he may end up smothered with a pillow because his lack of hearing me is pretty frustrating.

But anyway.

The race went well, and even my itty bitty voice could be heard by the 8 year olds. Everyone listened, (okay, most kids listened. Good enough for me!), and the volunteer mothers commented on how "nice girl" I seemed. Ha! I was just about to say that I liked kids when I came across the 12 year old girls wave.

These were not children before me. They were pre-adolescent witches. Gone were the bright-eyed questions like "Can we hit people?" from the 9 year old boys. Gone were the 7 year olds' tears because the water was too cold. And most sadly, gone were the 10 year olds' requests for someone to swim the course for them. 12 year old girls were different beasts. Let me just say it was a long six minutes before I set them off. I still shudder thinking about it.

That's all. Just wanted to share. I have a newfound respect for myself because I was on time (in Katy by 4:45 thankyouverymuch) and for parents for not eating their young at some point. If your club does one, you should definitely volunteer at a kids race. They're so small and cute-- so long as they're not crying or puking at you.

Just something to think about.

The not best 4th of July ever

2007-07-05T16:00:00.001-05:00

Have you ever wanted to conjure your stress from an unknown force to a tangible thing, ball it up, eat it, then take a big de-stressing dump and triumphantly flush it down the toilet? What a coincidence! Me neither! But I think that's what happened this week. I woke up Tuesday feeling kind of icky, so I decided to call in. Little did I know I would actually be feeling awful by noon and yelling "Uncle" by 2, all the while whining and moaning to Craig. Poor guy. Anyway, I thought I felt better by Tuesday night, so I went to the Freedom 5k on the morning of the 4th.

I shouldn't have left the house, but I didn't see the warning signs. I was running this 5k, eating some kolaches, then meeting the girls for a 40 miler on Lucy. It was gonna be great. Instead, I ran 2.6 miles because the course was partially flooded (they're not kidding about that Texas rain, folks), unenthusiastically ate my kolaches, and went home to sleep the rest of the day away. I missed the parties and the little of the fireworks I couldn't see from my apartment (that is, if I'd watched them. I'm not crazy about fireworks). I do feel less stressed now though, even if I'm still rumbly in the tumbly. And the 2.6 miler? Perfect 8:00 miles (8:12, 7:54, 4:42 by the ol' watcheroo-- I think I could've brought home a full 5k at 8:00s, but we'll never know). I talked with another girl after the race and we decided the mile markers weren't in the right spot since I was pretty sure I took it out sub-8 and struggled in the second mile. Oh, here's a story about that girl, let's call her Judy: Judy said she was leaving before the awards ceremony, so when I saw she was 3rd in our age group, I ran over to tell her to stick around. Turns out that was the second page of results for ladies 25-29 and I'm a huge A-hole since the sheet clearly showed she was 10th. In my defense, however, places 1-7 were on a sheet very low on an adjacent column, so anyone coulda made the mistake. In fact, I KNEW there was a mistake since I was in first (really 8th), but I couldn't find that other sneaky sheet; in the future, I'll keep my mouth shut to keep my stinky foot out of it.

Anyway, boring 4th for me. Ran (also warmed up-- a good move and a lesson learned the hard way. Several times), nibbled, slept. No post-race blowing chunks, from running or beer pong. How's that for patriotic?

Would you trade it?

2007-07-03T15:15:00.001-05:00

Greyhound and I had an interesting ride this Saturday, complete with 5 used tubes and CO2 cartridges and about 3 hours of delay. Despite the challenges of the day it still beat getting rained out of like the rest of Houston was on Sunday. And it beat working. And it beat getting poked in the arm with bits of glass and metal. It also beat getting eaten by a shark, chased by an angry clown, and stepping in dog poop with both shoes. At the end of the day you just have to ask yourself: would you trade it for a cool glass of iced tea and a book? Would you trade it for having to work all dang weekend? Would you trade it for 10 pounds of blubber on your frame and high cholesterol?

Chances are you probably wouldn't. You're gonna have crappy rides and miserable runs (especially in Houston), but in the end it's worth it. And if it's not, life's too short. Find something else to do. You feel me?

P.S. Saturday's melodrama was all but forgiven on Sunday. I got in my interval workout I accidentally napped through on Tuesday and destroyed that mofo in a nice cool sprinkle. After that I met the 'Hound and we tore up the waves for an hour of open water swimming in rain and, well, thunder. Don't worry--it sounded pretty distant. And we both made it out alive, always a nice perk.

My avatar

2007-07-03T14:53:00.000-05:00

Many moons ago the Dread Pirate asked me about my avatar. Bloody shoes? What the heck is wrong with me? While that question may have too detailed an answer for interest, I can explain the nasty pic.

My first tri ever was Outloud's Ironstar half ironman, complete with 59 miles of biking pleasure instead of the standard 56. I told the 2004 version of the race along with the 2006 one from last fall, so I won't get into it again now except to say that I forgot socks-- no dirty socks, no toe socks, no knee highs-- nothing. When I realized this in my hotel the night before the race I opted to do the run without socks instead of driving the .8 miles up the road to a Walmart to get a pair. You know how they say it's better to get 30 minutes less sleep but not be rushed during your race prep? I don't believe that.

So I set up my transition with no socks. At 10 miles into the run a pair of women who kept going back and forth with me (they were running faster than me but walking longer at the aide stations) asked me if I felt okay. Um, yes. That's why I'm even splitting my consistent yet unimpressive 10:50 miles, biatches. Then one pointed to my feet, which were wearing the bloody shoes that hadn't been bloody when I started. I seriously almost puked. See, I knew I was rubbing my feet but there weren't really hurting a lot; I had no idea that both my ankles were completely raw. I finished the race okay (choosing to ignore the gasps of children as I ran past them in the last mile as well as avoid looking down at my disgusting feet), got some medical attention for my feet and all was well.

After the race I took a picture of my impressively nasty shoes; I have to admit I was a little inspired by Schilling's pitching and bleeding through his sock in the 2004 playoffs either the night before my race or the night before that. I thought it was an appropriate visual symbol for me: a true dumbass, too lazy to miss 15 minutes of sleepy indulgence, yet tough enough to handle the distance. Slow, stubborn, dreaming of badass-ness... that's me.

But I'm thinking it's time for a new avatar, one without blood, puke, or and sort of bodily fluid if possible. Suggestions? Remember now I don't race pretty, as evidenced in every single freaking race picture ever taken of me.

Um, best compliment ever

2007-06-26T20:14:00.000-05:00

The coolest thing happened to me on Monday. I spent the past 5 days in Sarasota, FL visiting my aunt and spending time on the beaches that seem to do so much for my mental health. Since last week's Houston workouts got canned due to freakoutedness, business, and laziness, I brought along my running shoes and goggles (even I won't wear a swim cap in the ocean. I have some pride).

So Friday I swam in the Gulf. 11 minutes out, 8 minutes back, lots of sand and salt up my nose. The water was a little cloudy (did you know that's when sharks are more likely to attack?? Did you know I have an irrational fear of being eaten by a shark?!) and I'm a weenie, so I stayed pretty close to shore and just swam parallel to the beach. Despite the relatively small waves, I got destroyed.

Saturday Craig and I ran over the bridge and back. 5-6 miles. I think he was imagining ways to thow me over the edge into the shark-infested waters below.

Sunday found me at a different beach with Craig. Instead of swimming we just stood around and attempted to get our shoulders burnt (we succeeded). At one point I thought I saw a snorkel about 25 feet out from us... and then realized it was a dorsal fin. Holy shit. A dorsal fin. Oh god! There's another. And another! Three dorsal fins close enough to eat me in 4 seconds flat. I immediately spat out curse words and moved to get closer to the shore than the couple floating near us-- I had no qualms of throwing strangers to the sharks.

Then the fins turned 90 degrees and it was apparent they were dolphins. Well, at least I was only overreacting and not completely imagining things. How often do dolphins swim on your beach? Not too much in my world. Pretty cool!

But this post was not supposed to be about my vacay workouts-- it was prompted by my Monday swim. I decided a 30 minute jobbie would do the trick, and after chillin out max with my aunt, I popped on my goggles and got to work. 17 minutes out against some pretty serious (read: demoralizingly butt-kicking) waves, but I assured myself I'd catch some of the juice as a tailwind on the way back. I ended up only getting about as far as I'd gotten on my Friday swim, though I did start a little farther down the beach. At 17 minutes I retied my hair, rocketed out some of the salt water in my nose and turned back. 12 minutes later I was gratefully back to my towel.

But at 10 and a half minutes into the way back, I stopped and stood to find my aunt and our stuff on the beach. A tan old guy (on vacation? new local? coulda been either) sees me and hurriedly comes my way. "Hey, are you a competitive swimmer?" he asks.
Me: No [truth: yes? Do tris count? I figured they didn't since I didn't train in the ocean. Hey, I never said logic was a strong point.]
Old guy: Did you ever swim competitively?
Me: Yeah, I guess when I was younger. [truth: swam 10 years.]
Old guy: Well you looked amazing swimming out there. I watched you swim out against the wind and the waves and couldn't believe how strong you looked. Have you considered swimming competitively?
Me: Nah, I just really do this for recreation now. [truth: because tris don't count. And they're fun.]
Old guy: You look like you should be in the Olympics the way you swim out there! Very impressive!

And he rushed away. Wow. When's the last time someone went out of their way to compliment me? I can't even think of a time. I considered replying. "Yeah, well I'm pretty sure Olympian swimmers don't train in string bikinis" but it came to mind a second too late (and it's rude and I didn't want to alienate my only fan).

But the coolest thing to me was that I felt like a total jerk swimming out there before he came up to me. I was getting pummeled by the water and had difficulty maintaining my stroke. I imagined tanned hotties in next-to-nothing swimsuits sunning on the beach, laughing at my pathetic attempts to conquer a corner of the sea. But instead I got a sincerely nice comment from a stranger. AND I got to gross out some tourists by blowing my nose into the water.

I love vacation.

(By the way, you should think twice about your ocean swimwear if you're a chick. The first day I got lots of seaweed in my top. The second time I got chafed from the string holding up my swimsuit top. Isn't my life hard? Perhaps I should have stuck with a tri top.)

Life as an unironman

2007-06-20T18:32:00.001-05:00

I feel like I'm taking crazy pills. This summer? Sucking so far. Last week I got in every workout except a 1200 quickie swim before spinning (that day I went home to be lazy and Craig miraculously got me to go to spin class anyway. Without trying. He's gifted), but I got in an unscheduled 19 mile speedy-for-mishele ride on Saturday. Success, right? I was stoked to do my weekly training summary til I added it up to be 6:05. Six hours! What a waste!

The truth is I'm lost without a $500 daylong race ahead of me. I can't function. In fact, last week I blew off my double workout one day just so I could triple up the next, a la my ironman days. What the heck is wrong with me?

Part of it is stress. I don't have anything to pour all my freakish anxiety and petty annoyance into at the end of the day except for patent registration studying, which actually puts me to sleep every night. If I could get hold of the MPEP editor, we'd have a nice little chat about repeating things more than once. But studying is not so much the "sweat out your stress" kind of outlet to which I've been subscribing. On top of that, I have pseudo tri friends now. Yes, I'm the fat one, slow one, and sometimes ugly one but I can still marginally cling to the group of h-town tri hotties (and I can still claim "the smart one!"). That sounds nice, but my lone workouts feel more like lonely workouts these days. If I have pseudo friends, why don't I have pseudo training buddies? Do they not really like me? Do they think I'm too slow? Lazy? It's absurd that I even bother letting such nonsense cross my mind, let alone occupy my thoughts in the quiet of the day, but there it is: crazy girl creeping in. I thought I drowned that witch in middle school.

Instead of grabbing a cocktail and a Lifetime movie to deal with my [imagined] problems, I'm IMing it up again. I don't like people frowning in disapproval when I say I'm taking the summer easy and getting some sprints in.... for three years. (That actually happened, by the way. At Tejas. By more than one person. Can you believe that?) I don't want to feel left out of the loop when I'm way more knowledgeable than most of the local idiot talking heads when it comes to doing an ironman, especially Arizona. But mostly, I want that iron structure back. I want to feel like me again instead of this babbling insecure creepy girl waiting by her phone instead of brazenly ignoring it when it rings. I am not myself right now.

So I'm headed to Louisville in 2008. Admittedly it's my second choice, but I simply can't secure the bones to get up to Canada the first day of law school classes (small detail) or swing a community fund slot for IM Canada. So I'm heading back (almost) home on August 24th or 31st in 2008. Maybe my family will make the measly two hour drive to cheer me on. Er... maybe not. But you know what? I really don't mind either way. I don't do this for cheering family or dri fit hats or that tri community I so love and hate-- I train for me, all me. Hopefully I can get out of 1L with some kind of fitness that doesn't resemble that of Jabba the Hutt. I'll have a solid summer to toil away my evenings bruising my hiney and chafing my chest. And I can't wait.

But this summer? I really need to study. And give kitty kisses to Gary and Lily. And get back to being normal me that doesn't give a crap if I'm riding solo or in a group or what Summer said to Austin when she was drunk last week. Just making the decision has given me a little of the peace I'm used to. Back to basics and off the crazy pills... I hope.

Louisville in 08! Now who's with me?!?!

Uh, just kidding.

Wisconsin-bound

2007-06-13T09:22:00.000-05:00

I will catch you when you fall. Well, provided you do it at the finish line. Oh! And assuming it’s my turn in line. I’m going to Ironman Wisconsin in 2007, but not as a competitor (ha! As if I’ve ever “competed” in an Ironman); I’m volunteering as a finish line catcher all day. From the easy, confident stride of the winner to the hobble of the bitter 12:01 AM unofficial finisher. There will be tears. Sweat. Blood, perhaps? Oh, and puke... maybe puke. And me.

You kids are gonna make me proud. And stinky. Try not to sweat on me.

Ready to run? Tejas sprint tri race review

2007-06-12T09:55:00.000-05:00

Tejas Sprint
600y swim/10.5 mile bike/3 mile run
Sugarland, TX 6/10/07

Ah, my first real race of the season. My training has been light, but I was so stoked to get out there on Sunday morning that it really didn’t matter if I was about to get my booty kicked. Tejas was a benchmark race since it’s the only one besides Arizona that I also did last year. I wanted to spank 2006 Mishele until the run, when I’d probably let her win; I’m still afraid to run. I’m a weenie.

Anyway, I woke up at 5 on Sunday morning and felt okay. Got to the race site, fiddled around with crap in my car, and rode down to transition which was about .5 miles from the parking lot. On the way there I ran into Lisa and Robin, local tri hotties who are also pretty speedy. We hung around while we set up transition, got our chips, etc. Good times.

Finally the race began. The swim was supposed to be a 600 yard open water swim in a decidedly nasty neighborhood lake. This annoyed me because last year was on the same course and was an 800 meter swim, but oh well-- at least I could beat my swim split from the year before. I was in the 6th wave and started in the second row of bodies. You know, it amazes me how nice all the girls are... til the gun goes off. Let the water wrestling begin! Despite the rat race I got out in front pretty early and swam about as straight as humanly possible. I felt pretty good about my line and my effort and fully expected to exit the water around 9:00, so you can imagine my disappointment when I didn't hit land til almost 12:00. What the crap? I don't do 2:00/100yd anything, not even warmdowns. I didn't fret too long though because I saw a good swimmer maybe 30 seconds in front of me in transition, so it wasn't just me being pokey.

T1. Good work. In and out.

The bike. Ah, I was so looking forward to riding. The course was an ultra-crowded out-and-back 2 loop course on new roads, a last minute change back to the crappy 2006 bike course. I stuck above 20 mph except when I was digging around for food or taking u-turns, which I royally suck at. I felt good. Funny thing though: I packed two frozen water bottles in my car that morning, one of water and one of Gatorade-- one for the bike and one for afterward. I left them both in the car, leaving me with just my aerodrink until the run. Oops! It was just as well though because I hate ingesting on the bike. Anyway, just as I started losing my focus tri hottie Lisa came breezing past me-- she's a real force to be reckoned with on the bike. The second she was out of my draft zone I chased her to T2, determined to get her on the run since I have been a stronger runner than her in the past.

T2. Super fast, despite dropping my running shoe (2 seconds) and running the wrong way out transition (4 seconds). Always room for improvement I suppose. I also tried something new dismounting: I left one shoe on the bike. Perhaps the first time trying this should not have been during the race.

The run. My once strong leg is now my greatest fear, in small part because I rolled my ankle on Tuesday and strained that tendon on the outside of your lower leg. It hurts, but it wasn't bothering me when I started running. Lisa was within spitting distance of me for about 50 yds, then she took off and I, well, didn't. Last year I negative split each mile by 30 seconds (8:30, 8:00, 7:30-- not too shabby). This year I clung to 8:30-8:40 pace, and barely. Still, my run was strong and consistent, which I guess is all I can ask right now. A funny thing happened on the run. At mile 1 there is a water station and a photographer, and it's right by transition and the finish so there are tons of folks around cheering. I saw the photographer and planned to smile, but then realized I needed water to take the gel in my hand I was supposed to down in T2. So I keep glaring, grab a water, down the gel-- and trip over the guy in front of me b/c I was drinking. All of the sudden Darlene (remember her from Arizona?) is there beside me cheering. Surprised at tripping and hearing my name, I got water up my nose, which promptly got rocketed out my nostrils. So there I am, being called (out?) by name near lots of people while water and snot run down my face. It was awesome. Anyway, the rest of the run was a pretty 3 miles (2.8-2.9 miles according to the Garmin freaks) until the much anticipated finish. Once I caught my breath I immediately removed my shoes and found my feet a painful chafe/blister party. Good to know now that I can't run without socks even for 3 measley miles. Yeck. Post-race I hung out for awhile (Craig did too), then lifted and got in an open water swim with Greyhound. I was pretty pooped by the time my head hit the pillow.

Here's the comparison from this year to last:

Year	2006	2007
Overall time	1:17:46	1:11:36
Swim	13:10	13:10
Swim pace	1:30/100y	1:32/100y
T1	1:30	1:38
Bike	37:30	32:15
Bike pace	16.8 mph	19.5 mph
T2	1:26	0:46
Run	24:12	25:10
Run pace	8:03	8:23
Age group place	10/29	8/35
Overall place	317/613	237/629

(I recalculated the bike and swim splits to reflect the proper distances since they aren't right on the results. In case you're one of those stalker types that checks that sort of thing.)

Improvement I'd say, especially comparing my bike split, T2, and place in the grand rank and file. Now I just need to smile for the cameras, get some run speed, and club a few girls in my age group so I place one day.

Two more posts coming up this week!

A minute isn’t so long

2007-05-31T10:15:00.000-05:00

Right?

Yesterday I popped in the pool for 1000 yd time trial. Naturally, this “time trial” was a loose label since I wasn’t trying to go fast. No way. I was just trying to get through it. See, I haven’t swum 1000 yards since my last race. In Arizona. Sure, I accompanied the ‘hound on a swim at Twin Lakes a few weeks back but I managed to find a tri friend to float along with for part of the swim (she was on a date with her tri hottie boyfriend--how gross is that? Seriously.) (okay fine, it’s cute. Maybe I want nauseatingly active dates. Or maybe I want NetFlix and a PBR... I can never decide.)

But yesterday I got my jiggly butt in the pool if only to remind myself I still knew how to swim. It wasn’t pretty, but it wasn’t ugly: I was about 50 seconds slower than normal 1000 time and about 2 minutes slower than a real 1000 TT with TT effort. I was surprised I was even within a minute of my normal self since I felt like a 13 year old boy in the water--gawky, awkward, and other adjectives that use a “w” and therefore look widiculous. I guess that’s no indication of actual progress, huh?

So I’m back. Sure, my first Olympic got cancelled (good thing too since I had neither swum the 1500m distance nor run the 10k distance before since that last race). Sure, my calves now shake when I walk, which is slightly disgusting. But I’m riding this weekend with my enthusiastic if slightly frightening tri buddy. I’m lifting tonight. And Tuesday? I went to track to have my ass handed to me so bad that I still felt sick from the effort 2 hours later. Yeah, it’s that bad.

But don’t worry, I’m not getting carried away. 10-15 hours a week for the rest of the summer TOPS. No more long swims. No long runs (truth is I’m still afraid to run and break myself again. I’m clumsy that way). No 50 mile ultramarathons this fall and no ironmans (ironmen?) this summer. Just me, trying to stay in shape and de-jiggle my calves. And maybe get some buff guns to show off in sleeveless getups. And maybe get that TT back below 14 minutes where it belongs.

So no, I guess minutes aren't so long. But neither is the tri season. Time to hop back in the game.

Well what the heck am I supposed to do now?

2007-04-25T20:45:00.000-05:00

Ironman? Finished. Law school? Decided. Jewel Quest? Beaten.

And uh... Harry Potter? As finished as I can be.

I'm mad and I'm gonna rant. Brace yourselves. I am completely addicted to Harry Potter. He's like library crack! I can't get enough; I even dream about him almost every night after I've been reading about him. He's like a real person to me! Unfortunately, I underestimated him and started reading the books in March "to relax." Now I have to wait three whole months to read the seventh book. (Don't ask me the book names. I get them very confused and just call them by their numbers.)

I could have put the first, second, or third ones down, but I didn't. Once I hit the fourth one I knew I was screwed. Back then I thought, "Harry Potter has to die in the seventh book. How could a kid with such an amazing story live a normal life after Voldemort?" A reasonable argument til I got to the end of the sixth book. Then? His death was a thing of beauty, an inevitable end to a wondrous tale. As the story continued through its current endpoint, though, his death would be melodramatic, hackeneyed, absurd. I'm annoyed because I'd bet $17 he's going to die in a particular way, which I won't share at the moment. I'm also annoyed because I don't think J.K. Rowling can write. Hello? Must we use "stride" as a verb on every single page? What's wrong with marching, stomping, walking, stepping, tramping, treading, or even trudging? Not only does she overuse it, she incorrectly uses it as well. And can't we think of synonyms for "brightly" and "flatly"? I have one thing to say to you, honey: Shift +F7. For crying out loud!

And the characters? I have to admit I'm getting tired of them. Hermoine's a tattle-tale, Ron's a whiny baby (despite getting plenty of attention in book 5 I might add), Ginny's a little on the easy side, and Harry's temper is pretty tiresome. Dude, someone needs to beat the crap outta him in hopes he'll get some patience and maturity knocked into him.

And don't get me started on the editing. You'd think that publishing one book a year would give you sufficient time to freakin proofread what was written. Rowling is obviously not to blame for this of course, but Scholastic is. I rarely notice typos in anything I read-- maybe one typo per 1000 pages would be a nice non-scientific estimate. Rowling's books have about 3-5 per book that I notice; surely there are more. If someone who's somewhat oblivious to details (well, for an engineer at least) notices that many errors, your book pretty much sucks. Yeah, I'm talking to you Scholastic.

Perhaps you're indignant that I'm criticizing such an acclaimed writer. Maybe you're smugly skimming my words, rejoicing at every written inadequacy I've provided you. Well Mr. Meanie-head, I'm writing a blog I thought no one was reading, not publishing the highest-rated/fastest-selling/greatest book ever.

Despite the things I so loathe about the books, I still love Harry Potter. Maybe I got past the first book because I'd seen the movie, which was surprisingly well done. Maybe I love a world of magic like every kid does. But I'm pretty sure that, bad adjectives and annoying characters aside, it's one of the best stories I've ever read. Details woven from one book to the next with characters that no human should ever be able to imagine-- it's breathtaking. It's art. It's addictive. I know I have to allow for some melodrama, some annoying brats, and some poor use of language because they're children's books (though "damn" and "hell" do appear in book 6-- I was mortified of course). And whether I want to or not, I'm waiting anxiously for July 21st. Actually, I'm waiting til my library has a copy of the book because I think there's nothing more idiotic than purchasing books that are popular and therefore available from the library. Be honest-- for the most part you're never reading the crap you buy more than once and you're cluttering up your house.

Anyway...

If Harry dies, I will be so pissed. In fact, I'll be forced to mentally rewrite the ending in my ultimate quest for peace. I don't want Harry to be Jesus or the young priest from The Exorcist, nor do I want Voldemort to continue on like Satan in The Omen. I want closure, happiness; frankly, I think I've earned these things as a reader for getting through the 3000+ pages to get to this point.

Now off to find something else to do with my time... :(

Hero worship

2007-04-25T13:13:00.000-05:00

I’m going to be honest with you (big shock there). I don’t put much stock in starry-eyed adoration of good/professional athletes. Come on! They’re doing a job! They’re living the dream of the rest of us, something a lotta folks would give a lot to do. Sure, professional athletes are total badasses, but I regard them the same way I do people I work with who are competent: with basic respect. (My one exception: the OF who stole my heart with one of his characteristic saves--Jim Edmonds. Maybe he’s old and maybe he’s overpaid but he is a big hunka man. Delicious.)

I think it’s a lot easier to be amazed by fellow age groupers, fast or not. It’s not easy pulling a good training schedule out of your ass with work, home, and family to juggle--we all know that. But still, somewhere in the back of my mind I still think “So? I can do that too.” Again, there’s one exception: George.

I went to college with George. We drank a lotta beers together, so it goes without saying that we had a lot of good times. After college I picked up triathlon and George’s blog. He picked up ironness well before me, and he amazed me with his ability, determination, and desire to improve. George became my hero. On top of being awesome himself, George saved me the money I would have had to spend on a coach while I was learning how to train, how to eat, how to strive for awesome… thanks dude.

Here’s why I’m sharing all of this with you today:
http://georgeschweitzer.blogspot.com/2007/04/boston-marathon-race-report.html He PRed in Boston last week with a 2 freakin 50. 2:50.17. for 26.2 miles. He nearly even-split a non-even-splittable course. He dug through 20,000+ runners to whoop some serious ass. Unbelievable!

He also did Chicago last fall, PRing (at the time) there. THEN, like 2 weeks later he ran the NYC marathon sick, puking his guts out before the race and only drinking water for 26.2 miles. Only water. In a marathon. Maybe I underestimate my real- and internet-world companions, but I don’t think there’s a single person I know who could do that. Not one.

Except, of course, my hero. Congrats George!

The Grand Canyon is big.

2007-04-22T20:35:00.000-05:00

This was a surprise to me. Sure, it's "Grand" and all, but honestly-- how big could it be? Well, there's a reason there're no good pictures of the Grand Canyon. It just doesn't fit on film.

But you can't blame a girl for trying; here's a shot down Bright Angel Canyon:

After the awards ceremony Monday Craig and I drove 4 hours north to stay one night at the Grand Canyon. We left sunshine and 80 degree temps to go through some snow showers and cool breezes in the park. Crazy!

Anyway, we checked in our hotel, took the trail around the rim for about 2 hours, and picked up some dinner before crashing mightily into bed. Unfortunately, I'm the biggest altitude baby there is and at 7000 ft I was sucking wind and pulling out the inhaler what felt like every 5 minutes. It sucked a little.

Tuesday morning Craig and I got up at 4:30 to take a Sunrise Tour. We'd brought sweatshirts for the cold weather, but we weren't prepared for the chill before the sun could warm us up. We were chilly willy:

But despite the tour guide's bad jokes and the cold wind (omg could the wind just freakin stop already?), it was well worth it to finally see sunrise. Again, pictures don't do a bit of justice to the experience, but they're a nice little symbol of what we saw.

Finally, once the sun came up we could de-hood. Not that it made us any more photogenic:

Once the tour was over we got a hearty breakfast in the lodge, then headed down the Bright Angel trail. As soon as I saw the Canyon I wanted to hike all the way down, but there was no way Craig or my protesting quads would've let me. We settled for a trip 1300 ft down and 1.5 miles along the trail to the first trail stop, a prestigious... toilet. Yup, that's the first (and the second) landmark on the trail. As ridiculous of a stopping point as it was, it was a serious climb out. Here we are about 20 minutes from climbing our way back out:

Bet you didn't expect to be bombarded with Craig + Mishele = loooove pictures, did you? If you're nauseous I'm sorry... but you'll get over it. Anyway, we did the three mile trail in just over an hour and a half... not too bad post-ironman, especially with all the stops we had to make for the mule tours on our trip back up (not that we were complaining-- the rest was welcomed!)

After the hike we showered and high-tailed it back to Phoenix to catch our (late) flight back to Houston. All in all a good trip, no?

Oh no! I forgot to mention something crappy!

2007-04-19T11:35:00.000-05:00

So on Friday, K and I were walking back to the car with my bike after registering. There were 2 volunteers in an Explorer on the road beside us, and the girl volunteer hopped out of the passenger side of the car with great flourish to move a cone 4 inches to the left. She lazily left her door open, and the idiot boy volunteer started driving forward.

That damn door hit my bike. Luckily, it didn’t hit my fingers or anything important like a deraileur... it just hit my handlebars and ripped my tape. The girl apologized profusely, but the tape seemed to be staying in place so I was very nice about it. My only experience with ripped handlebar tape was a positive one (it’s still ripped on that side and still in place), so I moved on without dwelling on it too long.

Fast forward to T1. I’d looked for electrical tape in 2 stores on Saturday but couldn’t find any, so I left my handlebar as it was since the tension seemed to be keeping it in place. That is, until I actually got my bike onto the road. I spent the entire ride trying to keep the unravelling tape out of my way. Good thing I was in aero so much or I might’ve gone crazy!

If I could take back that moment of saying, “Oh, that’s okay” to that volunteer I would. Of course, I’d replace that comment with “You know, it’d be a great gift to society if you promised not to breed. There are enough ditzy bimbos in the world without your spawn contributing to the problem.” But alas, the time has passed.

Just wanted to share. As for the other 2500 volunteers: they were pretty great. If only they could keep the dumb ones out of motorized vehicles...

Update: My LBS fixed up my handlebar for a measly $5 labor-- they didn't even charge me for the tape! Must've been the world rewarding me for not being my rude self. Sweet! All is well with the world. :)

Arizona race report: Run and finish

2007-04-19T01:00:00.000-05:00

The run

Ah, on my feet again. I was going to finish.

It's funny how you discover your real goals out on the course: I wanted a 65- min swim, a 7 hour bike, and 11 minute miles on the run. Had you asked me the night before I wouldn't have had those answers, but here I was, running 11 minute miles for the first three miles.

Then that idea died. I could have grasped at 11:00 pace a little longer, but I felt comfortable enough running 11:30 miles that I thought I could sustain it the whole marathon. I kept waiting for my feet to hurt but they didn't really. It just felt good to pass mile marker after mile marker til suddenly I was on the next loop.

Running through transition was extra special this year. It seemed like everyone knew my name and was so excited to see me-- I saw K's family, Houston Racing folks, and thought I spied some internet people as well. I recognize it's totally lame, but having strangers read my name from my bib and cheer me on so enthusiastically-- well, it's amazing. I guess I'm a sucker for attention.

That's about all I can say for the 5+ hour run. I didn't walk except the aid stations and that hill on mile 3 of the loop and I didn't make any friends-- no Haley from Atlanta, Troy from Maryland (though I did see him on the course, but my bike wasn't so slow he could completely lap me), no Diane from Chicago. Just Mishele. I stuck to the nutrition plan that worked so well for me last year, a 4 aid station cycle: Gatorade, water + gel, Gatorade, water + banana. In Wisconsin I ate grapes a lot, but they were irritating my already swollen throat this time. (As much as I love Tempe the place makes me sick. Sad.) Over time my legs slowed, and I didn't have enough to get them going. My heartrate stayed around 138-140, remarkable only because running 11-12 min miles on a treadmill and not after riding 112 miles puts my heart rate around 148. Hmm. Maybe I just need an 8 hour warmup?

Before I knew it I was crossing Mill bridge to the finish. I picked it up to look strong at the end, but when I turned the corner I saw a terrible sight: the clock. 13:42! I thought I was going to cry. To be so close to last year's time and see it slip by in 3 minutes... ugh. It made me sick. But I kept running, trying to look positive and not cry. As I got closer to the finish line I realized I couldn't really see right-- and the clock said 13:33! If you watched me finish looking like I'd won $20, it was because I realized I wasn't in fact slower than 2006. I was elated!

My run time was 16:30 slower than last year to put me at 5:09 even, but so what? I didn't reinjure my foot and PRed overall. You don't get that every day. I'm amazed how my non-tri friends are so unimpressed with my race. Dude, it's hard to do well two years in a row. So what if I only dropped 6 minutes?

Oh yes... about Darlene. She destroyed me on the run. Again, she went out waaaay too fast, but I still never caught her. I blame the whole "not running for two months" thing for not beating her. Maybe some other time.

One thing I'm a little annoyed about: they took the finishers videos off the web so they could sell the damn things for $20. That's total bull. Does NA Sports and everyone else associated with ironman have to take every single opportunity to shake down their race participants? It's not bad enough that people are willing to drop $470-$1000 for a chance to do an m-dot race? Could I please see my stupid finishers video just once for freaking free? It'd be one thing if I'd seen ANY finish, but they've all been swept up before I had the chance (or they didn't tape the finish line). I am a little sick of this. In fact, I'm so sick of it that my next ironman won't be an m-dot. They don't respect me as a consumer and I don't respect them as an entity. I came to this realization about a week after I realized that an m-dot is like that cingular blob-man thing-- just a logo. One silly "M" doesn't define me and it doesn't define what I think triathlon should stand for. So, no m-dot tat for me. I have something much better in mind... once I hit 10 IMs, that is. I'm not swearing off NA Sports because they do put on safe races and I want to see every course. I just think smaller races cut out that crap I find so reprehensible, and I need a crap break.

Anyway, I was happy about finishing before I started ranting. I got a finishers shirt (personally, I'm very opposed to this 2-shirt per race trend. One's bad enough!), medal, and was shipped off to get food. I picked up some pizza and a diet coke and looked everywhere for Craig. No sign of him. I ran around looking for him and getting progressively pissed for about 20 minutes, and when I saw him I let him have it, even though he'd been looking for me too... oops. We tried to stick around for K to finish, but my neck was really hurting and I was worried about the state of my sunburn/chafed neck/chest/crotch/feet/etc. We headed home after a quick trip to Walgreens.

Postwar conditions
Best race ever. No chest chafing. No inner thigh chafing. Light sunburn on my arms, but not too bad. My neck wasn't pretty, and neither was my back where I thought I'd gotten sufficiently rubbed down with sunscreen. Apparently I wasn't rubbed down like I thought (btw, this pic is from Tuesday-- 2 days of healing and I still look deformed):

OUCH! Small but painful. :(

I also got one teensy blister on my foot. I'll take a very painful and ugly neck in exchange for healthy feet and boobs. Both pairs deserve a break.

Monday I woke up quite sore but I could walk like a normal person. I swear my post-IM walk has gotten better after each one I've done, an appreciated perk. Wednesday I felt like I was 90% since it only hurt going up stairs. I should be ready to go by Thursday.

Monday morning Craig and I hit the awards brunch, where I ran into Darlene again. She hadn't made the podium, but was quick to point out that 5th in the W19-24 had gone a 12:47. It took all I had to keep my "Good thing she wasn't here last year then" comment to myself, but I did. :) We sat around for awhile, but then Craig and I left early because it was dull (and we had better things to do... like the Grand Canyon!) We waited in the picture line but gave up on that too after 40 minutes and no progress. Honestly, what do people do with their proofs that takes so long? I don't get it. I was done in Wisconsin in like 1 minute. If you're heading to an IM this year, do us all a favor and don't dawdle with your pics.

So that's all. Thank you to all of you who sent emails, texts, calls, blog comments, etc; the support really meant a lot. You folks are wonderful! A super special thanks to Wendy and Nytro (I think I saw you...) for heading out to the course and lending me some cheers-- I needed them!

First timer tips: It's okay to experiment with nutrition out there, especially if you're feeling poopy. Try the broth and the cola. Don't go out too hard. Take off any reflective tape from your front before the finish line so you don't eff up your finishers picture. Find a friend; they can save your race out there. As for the finish line, don't pass people in the last 50 yards or so or your pictures will be messed up... it's a little late to be "racing" at this point. Don't forget to smile triumphantly! The finish is a lifetime top badass moment, so enjoy it.
Next stop will be GC, AZ. Get ready!

Arizona race report: Bike and T2

2007-04-18T23:53:00.000-05:00

The bike

That ol' wind that's whippin' out there
It's whistlin' your tune.
That wind blew pyramids to Egypt
And footprints to the moon
And that ol' star that you've been wishin' on
It's shinin' mighty bright
And it's the fire inside your heart
That's gonna lead you to the light

Now I know that slaves built the pyramids and space travel is a product of a governmental dick measuring contest. And the lyrics? Very lame. But this was the song that eased into my head every now and again on the bike, and I allowed it to stay because it was so very appropriate (it's "How you ever gonna know" by Garth Brooks. Country and uplifting or something if that's your kind of thing.)

I felt grrrreat in the water, coming out of the water, and hopping on the bike. The wind was light and so was my heart-- but T1 had sent my heartrate above 150, which I don't like to do ever on the bike...or the swim. All the changing and running must've gotten me overexcited. Anyway, for the first out on the bike I focused on calming down so I didn't eff up the race. I couldn't get my HR below 140 (I usually bike around 120 and drift up to 140 over 4-6 hours) so I just went with it. Instead, I focused on eating. My nutrition plan: 3 bottles every 2 aid stations, an uncrustable every out, a Snickers Marathon Womens bar every back, plus some snacking on bananas and gels whenever I got the urge. Since only 2 bars and 2 sandwiches fit in my Bento box I'd have to stop at special needs to get more food.

Lap 1 on the bike was pretty smooth, though I was sad to see Darlene zip by me at mile 6. I figured she was going out too hard and quickly forgot about her. The wind hadn't picked up yet (here is the wind report-- I didn't search for it but I'll certainly refer to it!), so my first "out" was 1:09, almost perfect 16 mph pace. I really really wanted to hit 16 mph for my bike split because my rides are usually 16.3 mph pace, and 16.1 mph when breaks are included. It's not fast to a lot of you, but 16 was my only real race goal, and marked improvement from the 14.2 and 15.1 mph from my first two IMs. That said, I refused to blow my load for the bike split because walking the marathon was simply unacceptable. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

First out: 1:09, first back: 1:10 (again, wind wasn't bad and I lost my chain... bugger!) for a loop of 2:19. I knew I could never keep that pace even though it felt effortless because I always fade in an IM, so early on I let go of my sweet sixteen dreams. This was a mistake, and possibly one of only three regrets I have from the race.

When I started loop 2 I thought I was shot from a canon; I was holding 21+ mph with a heart rate in the mid 130s, so I took it easy, got out of aero to stretch, and got some calories down my gullet. Even with my relaxed effort I got to the halfway point in 58 mins! I did some math and realized I'd need about 12 mph pace to even split my first two loops-- not a good sign when you're about to head back into the wind. Instead of lamenting or getting frustrated, I just got in aero like a good girl and watched my cadence. I stopped at special needs-- my only trip off the bike except in loop 1 to put my chain back on-- because my stomach hurt, got my uncrustable from my bag and ate it while I went to the restroom (I like to be as gross as possible). Just like last year, it was an overly full bladder that was causing me tummy trouble. I finished the second loop in 2:23, perfect pacing with my 3 minute break at special needs. Woo! This was fun!

Lap 3 seemed easier than lap 2 in terms of wind, but that meant I wasn't going as fast on the way out-- or so I thought. I got to the turnaround in 57 minutes this time, but the way back was brutal. I was holding 13 mph and passing people! However, about 7 miles out my stomach hurt too badly to get into aero. It only felt like a little gas, but there was no way to deal with it without slowing down or risking an "accident". I just tolerated it and stayed as low as I could to get home, and I would have hit 2:20 if the loop had ended where the other two did but I had to go a little farther to get back to T2. I ended up with a 7:06:58 bike split, 18:08 faster than last year in some serious winds. I was pleased, but had I known I'd end up riding so consistently I'd have tried a leetle bit harder to reach my goal. Lesson learned.

I really had fun riding, which was so strange. I kept a lookout for HRTC Mitch to pass me since his goal time was sub 14 hours, but I never saw him. I also kept watch for Brent Buckner but also missed him. I did see K (or rather she saw me) and she still looked downright ecstatic to be on the course. It's neat to see people so lively at an ironman; I know that I always look like I want to kill someone, but really I save my face for useful facial expressions, like looking at people like they're dumb or pretending to hide my annoyance. Smiling? Well, I say stick to what you're good at, and my smile doesn't exactly light up a room.

Anyway, another huge difference besides enjoying myself in this bike leg than any other I've done: I got in around 3000 calories in the saddle! I got 3 uncrustables, 2 marathon bars, 2 full bananas, 5 gels, clif blocks, and 5-6 bottles of gatorade (and 3 bottles of water, averaging 2 bottles every 3 aid stations. Oops!) That's over 1000 calories more than I normally do, and I think it was the difference in this race. I felt good the entire time, and my heart rate trend is about as boring as it'll ever be-- 142 for most of the trip, though it did spike at the end of the loops where the wind was bad and drop when the wind was at my back again. Wind or no wind, my heart rate usually drifts up no matter what pace I ride-- nutrition was the only difference. Does that make biological sense? Not that I care, but it's nice to make sense sometimes.

One thing about the wind. I really hate wind. Give me hills, give me naysayers, give me bumpy roads-- anything tangible over an invisible nemesis. I worried about the wind all last year and didn't have too much to deal with; this year I worried again and it saved me because I was prepared for it. I took advantage of the tailwind to eat and relax, and really focused on staying in aero and not getting down about the conditions. This racer full of grace and composure-- she's not me, but I like having her on my team. I wonder if I can get stuck like this... :)

First timer bike tips: I'm going to assume you're not an idiot, so you're not going to go out too hard. Now, don't go out too hard. Don't forget to drink. If you pee on your bike, try to be mindful of the wind and the folks behind you. Don't pass someone, then slow down to grab a drink while you're still in each others' draft zones. Don't be in that drafting pack (Grrr why aren't more officials on the bike course to nip this in the bud? They only seem to catch loners who drift too close to another loner and I think that sucks). Stay alert. Don't be stupid-- get in aero in a headwind no matter how slow you're going. Oh, and don't pass on the right.

T2
I got off my bike, crotch and butt surprisingly intact, hobbled to my transition bag and then to the tent to get on some run shorts. I've said it before and I'll say it again, but I'm not running an ironman in spandex for all the world to see my butt jiggle. I have some pride here. Anyway, as I'm changing my shorts and shoes I notice a bubbly person near me-- Darlene. Seems like that racing off at mile 6 either found her sucking wind on the back half of the course or she got a flat. I like the first explanation. We exchanged pleasantries, and afterward I asked my assistant to look at the back of my neck; it had been hurting really badly and I was afraid it was burnt AND chafed like last year. She said it actually looked "really bad" and blistered, so she got the head of the changing tent to look at it. Who got a med staffer to look at it. Who got the head of the medical tent to look at it. This process wasted 60-90 seconds, so I was getting mildly annoyed. Finally, the head med guy looked at it and said, "aww, did someone get a wetsuit hickey?" like he was asking me if I'd made doodie in my pants. I told him that's what I'd been trying to tell them, and he let me loose on the run course. Finally! I'm home!

Now, normally I'm in tears in T2. I just hate the bike and am so emotional by the time I get off that I can't help it. This time? Nowhere near tears. It was strange, but I liked it. I hate crying and having to run right afterward.

Even with the needless delay I got outta T2 in 6:46, 2:18 faster than last year when my chafed neck also had me dicking around in pain. Now off to the races...

First timer T2 tips: Hang in there and try not to cry. That's all I got.

Arizona race report: Race mornin', the swim, T1

2007-04-18T22:20:00.000-05:00

Sunday. I woke at 4:45, 15 minutes before my alarm. While I actually opened my eyes because I heard a door slam in a neighboring room, it was a rumbly in my tumbly that got me out of bed. "Oh good!" I thought. "I'm getting this out of the way early!"

Then I went again.

And then again.

By 5:15 I was nauseous and not feeling too keen on the breakfast I hadn't touched. "Maybe you're nervous" offered Craig.

Eh, maybe. But I didn't feel nervous. I felt calm and relaxed-- I just wanted to vomit. Small detail. After groaning and lying down for 10 minutes, Craig and I headed down to the race. The minute we were out of the car I realized I needed the nearest port-o-let or else. I got to one right near the parking lot/buffet line, which turned out to be lucky; the lines for the potties closer to transition were very long, and everyone knows race porta-potties reek of poo (which also happens to make me nauseous). After that 4th trip to the 'room I felt much better, and in no time Craig and I parted ways so I could enter the athletes only area.

A bustling transition on race morning.

I got body marked, got a new wristband (I'd almost twisted mine off the night before), prepped my bike, dropped off my special needs bags, and ran into K. She hooked me up with some Imodium after I told her my 4-poop story (K's not too into poop stories, but that doesn't usually stop me. No, I have no idea how we're friends in light of this grave detail). She said that she felt like she could cry at any minute she was so excited, and I was surprised that I felt the same way. I was... happy. Excited. Ew. I thought maybe I was going soft til I realized I could be PMSing. "Come on Mishele, strap on your pair and let's go."

Sunrise on the swim course.

Into the wetsuit and toward the water. I realized on the way there that I'd forgotten to wipe the excess defogging gloss out of my goggles, so I decided to lick it out. Crazy as it sounds, a substance called Catcrap will induce instant dry heaving. It tastes like, well, crap. I'm an idiot, and I'm lucky nothing came up when I was hugging the trash can and wishing for a stick of gum.

The pros started at 6:45, and my girls and I finally got into the water. Here's another first timer swim tip: Don't be a water pansy-- get in early if yours is a wade start. Why? Because if you wait til 6:45 or 6:50 to get in, everyone actually swims to the start line instead of calmly drifting. It's a real buzz-kill compared to the leisurely floating people do at 6:35.

The swim

I started at the very front about 2/3 the way from the inside. I'm fast enough that I don't get passed much, and the course is wide enough that there's not a ton of pushing. Call me crazy, but I prefer my swim to be challenging because of waves, clarity of the water, and my speed, not the people around me. That's why I love IM AZ. Anyway, in no time we were off. I was surprised about 5 minutes into the swim that I was passing so many folks since I wasn't really going too fast, but I guess
that some people start out fast, get in my way, and must be put back in their places. Within 7 minutes it was easy to avoid running into most folks so long as you were careful in the murky water; oftentimes I wouldn't know I was near someone til a foot was perilously close to my face. 20 mins in I slid more toward the inside of the course to avoid some guy who kept running into me for no apparent reason-- and suddenly was RIGHT on the inside of the course. Heavy traffic. I stayed calm, reasoning that no one gave enough of a fuck about my race to intentionally run into me-- it was just really hard to see in this water. I was very proud of myself as I usually get really frustrated at having my butt grabbed and my face elbowed... I was growing up to be a nice, conscientious ironman! :)

Suddenly, someone pulled me from behind and held my head under water for long enough that I panicked-- maybe 5-8 seconds. Then I got really freaking pissed, grabbed the hands holding me down, and went to punch the face of the ass who was trying to drown me. It was a... girl?

I didn't swing for three reasons: 1) I didn't want to get DQed, 2) I didn't want to waste the energy, and 3) I didn't want my butt kicked by some little pansy; I haven't ever been in a real fight, and this girl at least thought she was IM material. Not promising fighting odds, though I had at least 20 pounds on her.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yelled.
"I'm sorry but you just knocked my goggles off my face! We should be helping each other, not hurting!" she yelled back. (Ironic, yes? And she didn't sound sorry at all)
"I'm sorry I didn't see you-- it wasn't intentional" I replied. What a freaking witch.
"Well PAY ATTENTION" she yells back and starts swimming again.

Excuse me?? I can't even begin to describe how I regretted not giving her a bloody nose. I don't like hitting people, but I would really have enjoyed grabbing her ankle and getting her face close enough so that my fist could catch it. Here we are in an ironman swim, not some lovey dovey Irongirl event. Everyone knows the swim can get brutal; I personally am thankful every time I leave the water unbloodied and unbroken. You should expect to get roughed up a little, especially if you're swimming in the most direct line on the swim course. Moreover, I can't hurt people even when I try! I tried punching someone last year in Wisconsin and completely missed. The idea that I could muster the coordination and motivation to smoothly rip some chick's goggles off in an attempt to come in 407th instead of 408th out of the water is laughable. Besides, my hands hadn't touched anything sharp or hard like goggle lenses; I think she caught the wrong person. I was horrified that anyone would act that way in a stupid race, and the mean part of me hopes she didn't finish and her race was a painful one.

I am always anti-man in these races because male triathletes don't realize the charmed lives they lead. And there are no women (<19% of the field in AZ) in the longer races. And they won't let you pass them once they realize you're a girl. And they're smellier. But honestly? Put me in 2500 pushy, pompous dudes before leaving me in the water with one vindictive wench. They're freaking psycho.

Anyway, on the way home I again had some trouble sighting like last year, but it wasn't quite as bad. I rolled outta the water at 1:04:37 and an average heart rate of 147. I beat last year by 1:33... Not too shabby!

First timer swim tips: Get in early. Get the heck out of the way if you're not a strong swimmer. Don't go all chainsaw massacre on someone who hits you; if you stay calm you can usually tell if it's a malicious hit. Dudes, swallow your pride and don't be a pain to pass if some chick is faster than you. If you are getting harassed, try kicking extra to let the person behind you know you're there and they need to find a different route; no one actually wants to swim over
you. Don't go out too hard; you have all day to kick some booty. If it's crowded or the water's murky, use sighting to avoid people, not actually look for landmarks to swim straight-- you probably will anyway.

T1

No trouble changing, but my moleskin had bunched on the swim to chafe my neck all the way across. Ouchie. This year I got the sunscreen guys to get my back, shoulders, low back, legs, and neck so that I could avoid the burning and sun poisoning I got last year. Unfortunately for me, when I said "shoulders" I meant "shoulders to elbows" and got a little
pink on my arms. After some trouble clipping in (embarrassing in front of the crowd!) I started le bike. I got out of transition in 5:50, 38 seconds ahead of last year. Woo!

Check out that cleavage! Who says wearing 2.5 sports bras isn't sexy?

First timer tips: You should really try to minimize your clothes changing, even in an ironman. I always see women who get nekked after the swim and I wonder why someone so fast outta the water would waste T1 time putting on sticky clothes. Also, trust your assistant and let them know how they can best help you. After all, you have a freakin helper to wipe your feet and tie your shoes and shit. Very cool-- but don't forget to thank 'em.

Psst... I have a swim start video Craig took, but don't know how to post it. Any help?

IM AZ race report: Pregame

2007-04-18T19:41:00.000-05:00

This is going to be long and painful, so grab a brew and strap on your safety belts.

I had a good weekend. I hope you did too. Instead of starting at just the race, I'm going to start with my arrival and end with my departure. Awesome. AND, in honor of the 41% of the field in Tempe attempting their very first ironman, I'm going to throw out some first timer tips to anyone who has their sights on the iron distance. You know, for fun.

I got to Tempe on Friday around lunchtime after wisely using my flight to download all my workouts from my watch to my puter. K was waiting for me at the rental car place, where I was offered a Mustang convertible for the same price as my blah standard size. What kind of luck is that? The one time I could get a non-crappy car and I have to shove a stupid bike in the back seat. What would be better than a convertible for a road trip after my race? Turns out I was glad not to have it as we hit some snow on Monday, but more on that later.

Anyway, K and I went straight to registration. The USAT folks somehow forgot to bring an updated database of members, so they made anyone who'd forgotten their USAT card buy a one-day pass-- the boat I was in since my new USAT card hasn't come yet, 4 weeks after I renewed it. USAT is great...on top of things and organized the way a governing body should be. While in line a dude behind me was asked about IM WI since he was wearing a finishers hat. And a finishers shirt. At the same time. While registering for another IM. He confirmed he'd done it (really? Are you sure?) and started grilling the question-asker about his IM credentials. I rolled my eyes. Well, apparently IMWI guy had forgotten his USAT card as well, and he loudly asked the USAT chick "Is this going to be a problem later in the season? Because I'm ALSO doing Ironman Louisville." Actually, it wasn't a question; it was more of a blatant declaration of his superiority. I'd have kicked him in the junk had there been anything worth injuring.

Anyway, after that I got weighed and received my packet from a nice volunteer who asked me if I was a pro ("Do I look like a pro?" "You'd be surprised!"). All was well. In fact, we got an event t-shirt and the Ford IM black drawstring bag right there instead of at the finish. Instead of a huge "FORD" on the bag it actually has an Ironman logo--finally! A huge improvement. Of course, with the bag given to us at registration, we had to hold all our crap at the finish line instead of having it tossed in the bag. But no biggie.

Is there anything more exciting than an empty transition area?

First timer registration hints: Don't forget your USAT card. Women, don't wear heavy clothes if you're going to get depressed you weigh so much more than you do naked. And finally, don't be that A-hole in the registration line. Believe me, no one is actually impressed.

K and I cruised the expo (which was sadly skimpy on samples with GU and Clif not there. It was even worse than Wisconsin without my favorite two booths), I picked up my bike, and we were off. We grabbed some lunch and drove the bike course, then checked into our hotels. In no time it was off to the pasta dinner, where my new HRTC friend Mitch flagged us down to some sweet seats. Dinner was mostly uneventful except I met someone I may have felt an unnaturally strong desire to beat on Sunday. Let's call her Darlene.

Darlene works professionally instructing two of the three tri disciplines, and she's younger than me. She's bubbly and puts on makeup. Obviously not my type of galpal. Anyway, I didn'tlike how she grilled me about last year, which was probably just my projecting my bike performance insecurity onto her innocent questions. But still. I decided I wanted to beat her to the run, where I felt I could give her a good whomping.

After dinner I headed back to the hotel, talked Craig's ear off, and hitthe sack around 10 local time. I was pooped.

Saturday. Woke up at 6, ran 10 minutes. Rode 20 minutes. Swam 20 minutes, dropped off my bike and my transition bags. Picked up a tired and grumpy Craig at the airport. We whiled away the afternoon after he napped and I rested, then hit dinner with a big group of Houstonians. It took forever, and I ended up getting two whole glasses of wine with my pizza dinner (I'm just not a pasta girl. Sorry). After unbelievable drama with the bill, we went back to the room and prepared for race day, and got to bed before 9. Unlike most racers I can sleep normally the night before a race, and I take advantage.

Can I get a booya?

2007-04-16T10:18:00.000-05:00

Overall PR (by 6 minutes, but hey, I'll take it). Swim PR. Bike PR. And-- this one's for you Kaoru-- Transition PRs. The run? Well, I ran the whole thing but you sorta can't tell by my time. Oh well. It's all pretty frickin' awesome.

I was also the victim of an attempted murder, but more on that later. Time to walk around like I'm constipated and head to the Grand Canyon, baby!

Ironman Arizona Preview: Numero 64 lays it out

2007-04-11T10:08:00.000-05:00

I don’t want to link to my own blog because it strikes me as silly, but it’s easier than wading through months of my talking to myself to get to last year’s race report and goals. I thought that I’d laugh at 2006 Mishele for being slow and dumb, but no way. My race report is positive (because my race was positive and not somewhere wretchedly unliveable like, oh, Wisconsin) and my goals are rational. Arizona 2006 was my second Ironman, so I was a little timid to put anything out there. Now? I feel pressure to push myself, but I’m not sure I have a leg to stand on here. Instead of more guarantees, I can make less. Sad.

Anyway, because of my running setbacks this season I’m going to be a pseudo goal weenie like I was last year. I have some cycling legs that I didn’t possess a year ago, but that run is a big, daunting question mark. My only hope is that I go Crazy again this year and work some miracles.

Without further ado, the 27 goals of mishelek. Actually, here's a little more ado: A) I don't give a flying dog turd about my transitions. As long as they're under 15 minutes I won't be mad at myself; the transition times in the goals below are based on last year (because the distance I have to go probably hasn't changed) and are round numbers to keep me from getting all glassy-eyed at breaking 15, 14, 13 hrs, etc. B) If my actual swim-bike-run breaks 15, 14, 13 hrs etc, that's close enough for this guy. I've always been a little slow getting on my cycling shoes or peeling spandex from my body in exchange for some breezy running shorts. That'll never change.

Okay, here we go:
1) Finish (same goal every race!) It ain’t easy, no matter how many times you get to that start line.

2) Get my nutrition straight on the bike. This year I’ve taken in as many as 130 calories/10 miles on the bike, around 200-220 calories/hour. That sucks but it’s the best I’ve done. My goal is to match that and exceed it if I’m feeling good; maybe I wouldn’t need Crazy to finish strong if I had some calories to burn. I also don’t drink enough, like, ever. I want to get through my aerodrink o’ Gatorade and a bottle of h-2-o every aid station, a lofty goal.

3) Beat my first IM time of 15:58:43. You know, for continuity.

4) Finish in under 15:09:xx--my worst case scenario assuming I don’t crash. Or burn. Or walk too much of the marathon.
Splits:
1:12:00 swim (1:42/100 yd)
10 min T1
8:00:00 bike (15 mph pace)
10 min T2
5:35:xx run (12:48 min/mile)

5) Finish in under 13:39:xx, last year’s performance. Here’s how I’d expect that race to go down--
Splits:
1:06:30 swim (1:35/100 yd)
6.5 min T1
7:10:00 bike (15.6 mph pace)
9 min T2
5:07:xx run (11:45 min/mile)

6) Finish in under 13:06:xx--a real goal. I can do this if my feet hold up. Of course, if I’m close I might as well push for under 13, right? Let’s just see how the bike goes before getting too ambitious.
Splits:
1:03:22 swim (1:30/100 yd)
6 min T1
7:00:00 bike (16 mph pace)
8 min T2
4:48:xx run (11:00 min/mile)

7) Enjoy meself. I wouldn’t be such a turd as to say that an ironman is fun (though you’d be amazed how wonderful it feels to get out of the water and onto that first bike loop... ooh I crave it. Can’t wait!) but to have $470 to waste on the selfish pursuit of some dumb race? That’s nice. To have family and friends there, on the course and cheering you on—very cool. Basically, I’m a lucky wench and should appreciate that. Not being sure of what the day will bring has forced me to enjoy the experience instead of focusing on a time; not my idea, but I’ll run with it. Hopefully I don’t look evil in my race pics like I normally do.

8) Snag some samples? I’m not sure about the sample situation. Last year I got tons of stuff from Arizona--mostly recovery and electrolyte drink samples from Clif and PowerBar and a race belt, stuff I actually use. Of course, Wisconsin sucked ass for samples because there were hardly any at all! Seriously, why pay so much if you’re not getting hefty sponsor freebies? Really annoys me. I don’t know what to expect for this race though... last year’s buffet or Wisconsin’s skimpiness? I’ll let you know. By the way, what idiot made PowerBar the gel sponsor? Their shit is gross. I’m a Gu girl all the way (except when I’m a Hammer girl; they really have spectacular flavors). Anyway, I’d like to give a good scowl to the a-hole who changed gel sponsors.

Right now the forecast is calling for 18-21 mph winds depending on what site you cruise; last year’s race had 12 mph winds with 15 mph gusts. Sounds like cake, right? It really wasn’t; even Miss Jones was complaining about the bike wind and the heat and she won the womens race. If the weatherman is still saying scary things come Saturday, I might take the bike out harder than normal, just to try to get further into the course before I’m punched in the face with an invisible nemesis. My legs can recover on the run.

Anyway, that’s the word, bird. I fly out Friday morning and Craig’s coming out Saturday; his mom is also flying out from NJ to visit a friend and stop by the race, so I’ll actually have real people watching me and getting bored because the race takes so long. Exciting! After the race we’re heading up to the Grand Canyon to look around and take a sunrise tour (gulp!). Hopefully it’s a nice vacation for both of us. Regardless of how the race turns out, I’m still free of long long rides for the foreseeable future--yay!

Wish me luck and I’ll see some of you cats out there! If you want to follow me on ironmanlive.com, my number is 64, the number of goddesses. Feel free to worship at your leisure. :)

Off to tackle my nerves for yet another day...

I don't think you're supposed to be sore while tapering

2007-04-11T09:27:00.000-05:00

Oh crap. I am wearing a cummerbund of pain today. Everything from below my natural waist to my illiac crest (the hip bone that sticks out in the front, correct?) is groaning every time I moved; I really did work my abs yesterday. My hamstrings are also extra sore from that third set on the Total Gym. Crap! On the plus side, my ass is less sore than it usually is after PT; it didn’t get any new and horrible exercises yesterday. My butt is so lucky!

At least your core heals quickly, right? It does, doesn’t it? Regardless, if I’m sore on Sunday I’m firing myself for being a pansy.

Rehabilitated means sucking less than you used to

2007-04-10T11:50:00.000-05:00

I knew it was coming. I ran 6.2 on land last week. No pain. I wore high heels for the first time in two months yesterday (not that I missed them in the mean time). No pain. It was time.

Today I went to physical therapy, full of myself and proud my newly shaped butt (okay okay, you have to touch it to know the power it possesses), my super serial hamstrings, and my quads that look a little misshapen with all that muscle underneath a comfortable layer of cellulite. I was finishing up PT and no one was gonna kick this ass again.

Apparently my therapist didn’t get the memo because she whooped my butt today. Lower ab stuff. Upper ab stuff. Lower ab stuff again. Redo it because I didn’t keep my form the entire set. Slow down til my core is shaking like it’s scared for its safety. Whoever said anything about working my abs? Three sets on the Total Gym. I was sweating like a stinky cow in heat by the end, and I was completely demoralized. Who was this skank (it was skinny PT, not my favorite PT after all) to be challenging ME on my last day? As my hour finished up I had the sinking feeling I was going to have to make more appointments--there was no way I was getting wiped off the floor like I was in this session if I was supposed to be “better”.

Then I met up with my favorite PT for my final eval (insert happy eyebrow raise when she told me to come get her for that very reason). She had me do squats in the middle of the gym--embarrassing!-- and examined my ankle flexibility. Finally she sighed and said, “You look much better, but keep stretching--you’re going to have to stretch for the rest of your life. Two times a week will cut it for some people, but not you; it’s just the way you’re made.”

She mentioned how my stiff feet are a great benefit, but I couldn't allow my muscles to get progressively tighter. She then explained how I’d know that I was too tight or too fatigued to keep running based on where the pain was in my legs. And while she told me about the plusses as well as the minuses of being me, the meaning of her words dawned on me: We all have our weaknesses. Sure, I’m one stiff mofo, but that keeps me from other types of injury. Those nimbly pimbly yoga machines may have loose muscles, but that doesn’t mean they’re better suited to do any of the stuff I do. Ultimately, we have to play the hand we’re dealt. I have to stretch (and preach about stretching to you stinkers who don’t do it) all the time--ideally every day, before and after every workout. Maybe you don’t. But there’s probably something really crappy about your body that doesn’t even cross my mind, and I take great comfort in that.

But really, you should probably stretch your calves more than you do. If I had $1 for everyone who mentions their chronic Achilles tendonitis while skipping off after a track workout without stretching, I’d be able to afford Starbucks every day.

Now that that’s outta the way, can I get a listen for some IM goooooooals? Sweet. See ya tomorrow.

It's not all bad

2007-04-04T10:35:00.001-05:00

Believe it or not, my everyday life is not in shambles. I’m just tired and stressed; it’ll all go away on April 15th, so bear with me folks. Why the 15th? Law schools and NA Sports collaborated to put all my spring stress on one fine date: law school decision and my first race o’ the season. But I can do it. Taper has given me the light at the end of the tunnel.

First, the run. Two weekends ago (when I got in that Friday 4 hour aquajog that sucked because I forgot to bring anything to eat except part of a bag of sports beans and a 20 oz gatorade I found hidden in my bag), I ran for the first time. My rationale: it was too late to run very far, but I needed to know that my body could run some of the marathon. I have some pride every now and then. So Saturday when I tried 1.6 miles.

I flew.

“Easy” was 9:00 miles, about 30-60 seconds faster than I’m used to. I was stoked. So on Sunday, I opted to run again after 7.5 hour ride. I ran 2.4 this time, and as expected I felt like dookie off the bike. My first .8 mile lap came in at 8:11, and I was pleased with my pace. The next two laps? Negative split. Once I got my legs under me and I wasn’t even touching the ground. I pulled a 7:00 second lap and a 6:53 third lap, again not feeling all that tired. Could using my glutes and hammies actually make me faster? Apparently. 22:04 is not a usual time for me for a 2.4 mile jaunt after 115ish mile ride. Still, my foot ached a bit so I decided to quit while I was ahead.

I went to PT two days later and my therapist asked me if I’d run yet. I almost said no since I hadn’t been given permission, but I fessed up. She nodded at my progress and told me I could run 3 miles every other day, but not after I biked anymore--a reasonable rule I can follow. After a week of running with no serious pain, she told me yesterday I could up it to 4 miles and that I only had one more PT session left. I’m going to graduate from physical therapy before Arizona!!

So what did I do with that permission to go longer? Decide to run 6 of course. I did my last longish run last night--6.2 on the ‘mill and 7 in the pool. Today I’m a little sore, but it’s mostly from the PT. If I can run half the marathon at the Y I can make it at least that far in AZ. I’ll be mighty sore come the 16th but I think I can do it. Oh confidence, how I’ve missed you.

My swim isn’t going down the toilet either. Last week I was too lazy to come up with a practice so I opted to do 2x1000 moderate as a yard-eating main set. I rolled in my first on at 14:38 (1:28/100yd), about a minute faster than I was expecting. After a minute of rest I was off to the races, determined to keep it under 15 again. As I swam I felt fatigue setting in; I worried that I’d missed a 50 on my previous 1000. The slower I felt, the faster I swam, fearing the time I’d see when I finished. My second 1000 was considerably higher effort--especially the last 300--but I was relieved to see I came in at 14:29 (1:27/100yd). Yea! It meant my first wasn’t a mistake and my swim ability is the same as last year. Since I’m not looking to improve my swim time I’m ready to roll!

Finally, I’m only $105 away from my fundraising goal. It’s exciting. Still, I have a ways to go so please, please help out if you can.

11 more days. Sometimes it seems so easy. Sometimes.

You know you're a geek or a slacker when

2007-03-23T11:26:00.000-05:00

you take a half day off work to get your long run in so you're only in the pool til 6 instead of 8.

I may be a dork but I'm off work! See you later!

Support your favorite Ironman... whose name is Mishele

2007-03-22T15:16:00.000-05:00

If you're near Tempe April 15th, you should definitely come to the race. My 4th IM. K's first IM. That announcer guy's millionth IM. While I have yet to see an Ironman as a spectator, the recaps with inspirational music are very touching. And if my waterworks during the thing are any indication it's not the music that's pushing the buttons.

If you can't come to IM AZ then you should try to make it to one in your lifetime. I promise to do so as well (as a spectator). And if you want to be supportive cyber-friend without actually having to make eye contact with me--or book a flight to Arizona--please consider supporting my fundraising efforts. As some of you may know, I am fundraising for the Spay-Neuter Assistance Program through the Janus Charity Challenge for Ironman Arizona. Here's a little bit about SNAP and why I'm diggin on 'em for my race:

SNAP is a nonprofit organization committed to educating pet owners about the benefits of spaying and neutering their furry loved ones. SNAP also provides low-cost spay/neuter and immunization services for cats and dogs. My second cat, Gary, was neutered at 4 months at a SNAP location and it was a great decision; he recovered rapidly, required a less invasive surgery and less anesthetic, and was back to being a busy kitten in no time. His care there was exceptional, and the whole experience was convenient for me to boot.

I chose SNAP as the beneficiary of my fundraising for a couple of reasons, but primarily because of their commitment to preventing the euthanization of unwanted pets. SNAP locations will spay/neuter feral cats that folks bring in at low-to-no cost. SNAP will also spay/neuter at 12 weeks of age, before sex characteristics and the bad habits associated with them begin to develop. Some of SNAP's great events to
curb pet overpopulation include free spay/neuter days each year as
well as a "Neuter-Scooter for a Nickel" day in the spring, where
anyone can bring any male cat in for neutering for five cents.

Want some scary stats? Just one unspayed cat and her kittens can produce 420,000 kittens in just six years. What's more, every year $2 billion tax dollars are spent to impound, shelter, euthanize, and dispose of homeless animals. These are some of the reasons I think it's essential that pet owners prevent unwanted puppies and kittens from ultimately ending up in a shelter, and the first step to that is responsible spay/neutering. I love my cats more than most people (slight understatement), and the thought of so many cats and dogs that enter shelters ending up destroyed is a small tragedy. Would you help to prevent these deaths by supporting SNAP?

I would be honored if you could contribute to this cause with cash or other donation. Just $30 is enough to neuter a cat and perhaps save many future cat lives. If you have non-cash items you would like to donate, SNAP is looking for the following things:
* paper towels
* copy paper
* laundry soap
* postage stamps
* white copy paper
* large bath towels
* small cat carriers
* address labels
* flat screen monitors – 3
* executive office chairs - 3
* gift cards – Target, Home Depot, Office Max, Office Depot
* printing services

Folks sometimes ask me why I'm not fundraising again for the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund in memory of my dead mom. There are a couple reasons. First, as clean as I think the OCRF's financials are, part of me doesn't feel comfortable giving money to medical non-profits-- the bigger they are, the less I want to give. I just start thinking about how my $50 is going to some grad student's Ramen noodles/living stipend and I get all pissed off. I like the immediate impact I can have by donating to a more urgent cause. Second, there are too many great non-profits doing things that are meaningful to be repeating fundraising. Maybe I'm a bleeding heart with a wandering eye, but I just can't commit for life to one 501(c)(3). Third, I love my cats. A lot. And finally (I'm a little ashamed of this one so lean in closer) I just don't want to elicit the xxtreme effort it took for little ol' me to drum up $6,000+ or whatever it was the last time I went down this road. My fundraising took way more time than, say, my weekly swim time. It was exhausting.

Basically, I think that if I'm going to take time away from my family and community each and every week of training that I should make up for that somehow. And if my spending a day rolling 140.6 inspires someone to give to something that matters to me, I'll shamelessly plug it.

So there it is. If you want to take a look-see at the cause, here's the website: http://www.snapus.org

And if you want to give (oh, come on... you want to give) you can do so through my fundraising site. As you should know from the rest of my blog, Gary's the adorable gray cat I mentioned above.
http://januscharitychallenge.kintera.org/az2007/mishelek

Anything you can give to help is greatly appreciated. If you're in the Houston area, I'd be more than willing to schedule a pickup of non-cash goods as well.

Help me help SNAP! Thanks folks.

P.S. AND if you want to give to K's Janus Charity Challenge cause, you can support her efforts for the American Cancer Society below. Come on! It's her first Ironman and she's already JCCing it up!
http://januscharitychallenge.kintera.org/az2007/kcwoodhead

You know why I’m glad I’m young?

2007-03-12T12:45:00.001-05:00

Because I still believe in myself. I can see past my day-to-day existence to find the person I want to be, someone I am not yet. I think as time passes and you get caught up in the ordinary life--climbing the ladder, chasing kids, saving for retirement, making dinner, doing laundry, mowing the lawn--you forget what you can do, what you’re capable of. When I signed up for my first ironman, I knew I could finish it... There wasn’t a seed of doubt till I was waiting on the beach for the start. I also knew I’d be slow, but that was okay. I could be an ironman. And almost *but not quite* 16 hours later, I was.

Now there is less fear of the unknown in my training. I know what works and what training b.s. I can leave out. But how will I be ten years from now with the inertia of my everyday life pulling on my coattails? I hope I never forget what I can do, no matter how old I am, no matter how gross and wrinkly my body may get.

Best week of training ever

2007-03-12T12:44:00.000-05:00

19+ hours in the s-b-r, 26+ hours all told. Amazing. I consumed 1400 whole calories-- a new personal high--on my 111-118.3 mile ride on Sunday (111 by the map, 118.3 by ol’ Lucy’s computer. I’m guessing it’s somewhere in the middle since I rode like I was drunk some of the time, weaving in and out of my side of the lane), followed by 25 minutes of aquajogging; I would have gone longer if the pool hadn’t closed. 3 hour long run (again, longer if the pool hadn’t closed). My first 5000 yd swim in probably years. A set of hard 200s where I held 1:23/100yd pace. A 2000 that I negative split by 48 seconds! The only sessions I skipped all week were a weight lifting one after my long run (I was exhausted) and 30 minutes of PT on Friday night, when everyone else my age was out having fun. I feel no guilt.

I learned some neat stuff this week. Number one: make sure you clear your HRM memory before you do a nearly perfect intervals session or you won’t “get credit” for it. Number two: riding a 22 mile out-and-back hike and bike trail five times will make you PSY-CHO. Number three: wearing an iPod for the last 45 miles of said trail makes it much more bearable. Number four: you can’t reach the back of your shoulders with sunscreen, so just resign yourself to burning every. single. week. Number five: don’t decide your $8 million cycling shoes are too small after you’ve put 800 miles on them. No one wants to buy used shoes that are so used. Number six: the best way to get roadies to clear out of the bathroom area is to drop the unholiest of restroom breaks while they’re standing outside the (open) bathroom door. Score one for the triathletes!

My new hike-and-bike discovery is a little dull, but it’s closed to motorists, is pancake flat, and has killer winds--the perfect Arizona training. It's kinda nice to see families with puppies out for a stroll rather than getting the finger from your local pickup driver. It’s also a quick 20 minute drive from my house, which beats the 60+ minute drives I’m used to if I want to ride long. This Sunday I’m planning on 120 with no running afterward so I can get home for my fantasy baseball draft. Life is good.

One quick question out there: Does anyone else’s HRM underestimate their calorie expenditure? Because I’m pretty sure I burn more than 300 calories/hour on the bike (320/hr in spinning class, when my HR is over 150 the entire time, and woo! 380/hr when I’m running as fast as I can). But maybe I’m just the most efficient amateur athlete on the planet...

I ran today.

2007-03-09T18:03:00.000-06:00

On my recovery day no less!

Let me back up to Wednesday. I had my sixth PT appointment, and
apparently that's an eval one. Instead of my trusty intern I got the
Best PT, the one that to whom I was assigned. She asked me about this
and that, and I mentioned that I'd worn high heels on Monday and they
killed my left foot. She then proceeded to stretch out the
muscles in my feet for a half an hour. Big deal, right? Except my
feet smell so bad they kill small rodents on a regular basis. The
baseline stench was compounded by my wearing open-toed, open-heeled
stink factories. At one point she went to touch her face after
holding my foot and I mentally screamed, "Oh no! For the love of God
please don't do it!!"

But she did, and she lived. Don't ask me how!

Anyway, she said I was progressing very well despite my being so
tight. When I swore I was stretching she told me that she could tell,
but I was just "genetically" absurdly tight. My initial relief was
replaced with fear—this could be me for the rest of my life, in and
out of therapy because I'm not flexible enough operate my machinery
safely. Scary, huh?

I got new exercises (which mimic actually running) and skipped out to
my car afterward—and I nearly fell over. Due to the xxtreme
stretching I'd just received my ankles moved in more than one
direction, something I'm not used to. Interesting concept...

Next was AJ intervals (rocked 'em), half a spin class, PT, bed.
Bummer of the otherwise great day? My memory was full on my watch, so
proof of my stellar intervals was lost. Sad.

Thursday. One month eval with running doctor. He said I'm doing
fantastically and my ass is at normal strength, or nearly so. His
orders: keep aquajogging, three more weeks of PT twice a week, then PT
once a week after that. There's a hint that a run
will be in my future…

Next was 3 hour AJ with 5 minutes of cross country ski action every 20
mins (to better engage the ol' quads and hammies and keep me from
crying from the boredom), PT, bed. I skipped weights because I was
ex-huas-ted after my run; I guess I'll live if I only lift twice this
week because I can't make up the session.

Friday. My off day. PT at lunch, PT for 45 minutes at home and I'm
free til Saturday! So I went to my appointment at lunchtime and got
my ankles stretched again, because one's way tighter than the other
and it's effing up my existence. We did some stairs, some balancing,
some weights.

Then we ran.

It's not the awesome running I'd like to be doing, but it's a start.
Three steps, then landing on a foam pad. Make fun all you want, but
that crap is hard. I may be a gimp, but I've still got some miles
under my belt! But I did well-- my weight distribution, foot
response, and body positioning are improving, and rapidly. I think
I'll be on my feet in a month.

And if not, at least I trust my doctor and PT to not, you know, ruin
my life. Running doctor reportedly never tells people to quit
running altogether, so I need to believe he's fixing me. And I do.
Woo hoo!

One weird thing though: my toes (middle and ring toes) cramped like
crazy on Monday (swimming, AJ) and Tuesday (spinning, abs class. Yes,
they cramped in an abs class. Yes, I was in an abs class--
those 15 minutes were the most painful of my day). Anyway, these
aren't weenie arch cramps, which I can effectively massage away after
my years of practice. They're also not curl-under toe cramps;
instead, my toes twist away from my big toe and writhe around like
freshly cut worm halves. I don't get it. Neither does the Best PT.
Neither does the running doctor. I decide I'm a freak and start
drinking more Gatorade—and I'm two days with no foot cramps.

New aquajogging insights: you can still drop your hips too much when
AJ-ing. Ya gotta watch that. Other than that I have no idea how you
can keep bad form in the pool. Pool running for life, baby!

Wailin' about wetsuits

2007-03-07T11:56:00.000-06:00

There’s a stranger on my tri forum. And I don’t like strangers.

So what do I do? Why, get into a cat fight of course!

The background:
The Lone Star Tri festival is coming to Galveston. There'll be a sprint, a half ironman, and a quarter ironman... because apparently here in Tejas we're too good for the Olympic distance-- you know, the one in the actual Olympics. I'm 10% annoyed because a famous RD (Timberman, Musselman guy) is putting on this deal, and he excessively uses ellipses in his tri forum posts. I'm also a little annoyed that everyone's preemptively kissing his butt. Isn't that more appropriate after the successful races? But still, it's nice to have an RD who pays attention to the club and tries to get folks excited and involved. So what if I'm not a "tri festival" kinda girl? I can respect that others are.

A Stranger joins our forum to specifically ask this RD if his friend's registration for the sprint came through. He mentions he's not a local (Indeed, he's in school north of The Republic of Texas) and he's jazzed for the race.

Excuse me, but isn't that a question that belongs in an email and not on a public forum? I don't know how you do things Up North (I love pretending I'm not from up there sometimes), but around here you post questions and comments that pertain, you know, to others. I can say with absolute certainty that no one who read that gave a flying mouse turd about dude's friend's registration.

The RD obviously replied via email, and the Stranger kept replying to him on the forums. I decide this stranger is a D'bag. Let's call him that for the rest of the post, eh?

The story
Someone asked on the Lone Star Tri training forum thread about wearing a wetsuit for the sprint. A few folks said you didn't need one since the water's in the low 70s/high 60s, a few folks said they were planning on wearing one, and a few folks added information about renting wetsuits, because the question asker sounded like s/he didn't own one. I am neutral about the conversation.

D'bag chimes in. He says he's planning on wearing one and he's expecting to exit the water around or just under 7:00 (for ~500m swim, so a pretty decent swimmer). He claims that everyone should wear one unless they're expecting their transition to be slower by more than a minute because you lose about 10 to 20 seconds per 100 yards while wearing one. For a sprint. When you're sprinting.

Someone else asks about his info source, and I do too. He says he's not sure, but that's the generally understood benefit of wearing one; he, for one, dropped from a 6:00 400 yard TT to a 5:30 when suited up.

Since I swim just over 1:30/100yd at a regular pace and hold about 1:22/100yd when I'm busting my hiney, I am skeptical. Someone who's already reasonably fast who drops that much time in a wetsuit? No way! It doesn't happen. I usually lose maybe 2 seconds/100yds in a race in my wetsuit, so the first problem I have with D'bag's statement is that he says 10-20 seconds/100yd, not 0-20 seconds/100yd to include everyone from awesome swimmer to tri newbie.

So I look to the internet for help and find these studies:
Wet suit effect: a comparison between competitive swimmers and triathletes

Effect of a triathlon wet suit on drag during swimming

Physiological responses to swimming while wearing a wet suit

The most relevant of which is the first one comparing competitive swimmers and triathletes in wetsuits. This study found no significant difference in swim times with or without a wetsuit in a 400m time trial for 8 swimmers and about a 19 second reduction in time while wearing a wetsuit for the 8 triathletes. I post this and say that dropping 4-5 seconds/100yd is a much more reasonable number for most people to drop, which makes the wetsuit wearing a wash for average to faster-ish swimmers when transition is taken into account. I feel good about my statement because, well, at least it's backed up with one study.

D'bag posts again and questions my ability to swim straight as well as my wetsuit age and fit. I'm peeved because my wetsuit is a 1 year old full Ironman® stealth, a very respectable buy (and very inexpensive since I bought it just as they switched to Blue Seventy. Go me!) and I'm in the dead center of my size in terms of weight and height, so that mofo fits. What's more, I'm not such a dumbass I compare an open water swim in a wetsuit to my pace in a pool, D'bag. I race much slower than I swim: despite holding 1:28/100yd for all my long pool swims all last year and still averaged a 1:34/yd in Arizona. It comes with the territory when you hit open water.

Here's what I don't get: what does my swimming straight have to do with a study that has to be marginally more objective than his results? Um, nothing. He further includes these links:
http://www.athletesden.com/wetsuitfaqs.jsp

http://www.bikesportmichigan.com/features/wetsuit.shtml
as proof he's righter than I am.

I snap. I sent a very respectful email telling him that I don't appreciate his overestimating the benefits of wearing a wetsuit, that it's a very individual thing and certainly not for everyone in a sprint. I believe that wetsuits should be worn for comfort, safety, and confidence-- if you're faster in one as well, awesome. But not everyone IS faster, especially by that much. What's more, that first link is to a guy with a HR in the mid-160s for an IM swim. Is it me or is that obscenely high for an Ironman swim? I swim in the 120s-140s, maybe higher at the beginning of a race or in sprints, but an Ironman is supposed to be as aerobic as possible. Considering your HR is much lower in the water than in air (10-20 bpm from what I've heard), a 164 seems like it's pushing the envelope.

He responds, saying I don't know about wetsuit gains because I've been swimming my whole life. And who am I to judge heart rate? That's dumb. It's different for everyone.

Wait-- it's different for everyone?
I want to beat this A-hole up. Ultimately that was my whole bleeping point: wearing a wetsuit isn't a guarantee you're zipping through the water holding sub 1:00/100yds. Sure, they help you more when you're a weaker or newer swimmer. Yes, for almost everyone the reduce effort and heart rate. But don't go flipping telling people that they're going to get significantly faster in a wetsuit-- say "I go significantly faster in a wetsuit. Y'all should try it."

One more thing I can't decide on: do you think a wetsuit helps more when you're all slow like an IM/HIM swim or when you're busting your tail like in a sprint/Olympic? It seems to me a wetsuit would help you more on the longer, slower stuff because your stroke is more efficient (for most) when you're not trying to go all out. Ideas?

All that said, I'm curious about your anecdotal evidence: how much time do you guys drop in a wetsuit?

1) I ran the Rodeo Run 10k. I sucked.

2007-03-06T11:50:00.000-06:00

Last year I led my corporate team to a win. This year? We came in a disappointing 3rd, though I did get second in a much harder 25-29 corporate age group. I ran over a minute slower than last year so nope, didn't break 50. It was hot and quite frankly, a race report would be more of a potty story than a true race report if you get my drift. Very crappy. Highlights include:
-- semi-accidentally cutting in line for the porta potties (believe me, it was better for everyone)
-- finishing with my arms raised in triumph!! like the guy on our corporate team shirt
-- promptly puking my guts out right after crossing the second mat at the finish (awesome dude!).
-- hefty finishers booty (Kroger's as a sponsor = lotsa good edible stuff!)

Lowlights include:
-- living in the bathroom all day Saturday. Sure, it's a funny story to tell, but not to live through. Thanks a lot Chipotle Friday dinner! You were officially out of my system by noon Saturday. Crazy and gross!
-- finishing with my arms raised in triumph!! while everyone around me thought I was seriously triumphant about running a 10k.
-- puking my guts out after the second mat instead of the first so it wasn't caught on video. Bummer!
-- My feet hurting worse than ever and after a mere 6 miles. Sure, my form truly is attrocious based on my finishers shot (but don't even think about judging, dear reader), but still... what the heck am I wasting my time in PT for if there's no improvement after a month?

Interesting paradigm shift: A coworker of mine started running in 2005 when she trained for this very race, a 10k. She was annoying and melodramatic about it, as many are when beginning a new sport. Folks supported her, watched her race, helped her train-- because that's what you do with newbies. Now she's a marathoner. You'd think someone like this would be warm and nostalgic about this race, but no way. If she'd said "It's a f**king 10k" one more time I'd have smothered her with a well-timed fart. Who was she of all people to belittle those around us just because of the distance of the race? Do I go around saying "It's only a marathon. You should try biking 6-8 hours beforehand." No matter how far or fast you can go, a race is a race. It's an important milestone for some and a piddly training run for another. I don't approach any race with "just", at least when referring to the rest of the field. Maybe I'm sensitive because I'm not very fast, but maintaining the respect and dignity of those around you should be a priority and, quite frankly, not very hard. Considering she's no faster than I am I'd expect the same from her. Then again I'd expect the same from fast triathletes too, and you don't always get that. Apparently my expectations of others are too high.

Post race I did some mystery shopping, single side lifting, and took Greyhound up on his pool party offer. I got in a nice 3000 in a measured pool-- oh, how great are the luxuries in my life!

For some reason on Saturday my legs felt like doody, worse than they ever have before. I felt so icky that I almost didn't ride on Sunday, but it appears that some time in the saddle was all I needed to flush that crap down the toilet. Strange.

2) Happy birthday Lily the cat!

2007-03-06T11:49:00.000-06:00

When I got Lilybugg from the uber-great Homeless Pet Protection League in 2004 they gave me an estimated date of birth of February 2002. I meant to find a suitable date for her birthday-- like National "Give your pet too many kisses" day, but alas-- there was nothing appropriate til 2007. As part of my mystery shopping I got a free personalized cake. For what should we celebrate? Lily of course! She now has a birthday on February 25th. Happy 5th birthday sweetie!
The proof is in the pudding:

Okay, one more:

3)Tri-County Hill Hopper ride: 76 miles of rolling hills and fun! Woo!

2007-03-06T11:48:00.000-06:00

Sunday I arose at the buttercrack of dawn to hit the Hill Hopper with Greyhound. I was wary of riding with him because he's faster than me, but felt semi-safe since he's "base training" (what's that?) and had ridden on Saturday. Check out his coverage for the elevation profile and his take on things if you're interested here.

Now, I didn't check the weather b/c Grey said it was supposed to be "beautiful" on Sunday. And yes, it was a clear, bright day-- but it was cold. I was planning on debuting my (sleeveless) Janus Charity Challenge top from Wisconsin and try out what I think are my favorite tri shorts (they are. Far and away the best. Too bad they're my Snickers shorts and I don't know what brand they are!). This is not cold weather gear. Fortunately I'd grabbed a jacket on the way out the door and travel with arm warmers... 'cause you never know when you're going to need them. Like, oh, in Wisconsin. Anyway, we huddled in the car til it was time to go, when we were seranaded with the OKaysion's "I'm a girl watcher" turned into "I'm a hill hopper." One of us thought that was more adorable than the other one did.

By the fourth mile I was, predictably, hot. I decided to take off my jacket at the first rest stop, about 12 or so miles in. Greyhound and I had gotten separated before the turnoff, but I thought I spotted him about 25 feet behind me. As the rest stop approached, he yelled, "you turning in?" "Yeah," I said. "I need to disrobe." I pulled in and thought he was behind me. He wasn't. Turns out I imagined that the guy was Greyhound and waited in frustration for over ten minutes before I called to find him.

He wasn't at the rest stop? Oh. Oops.

The ride was pretty hilly and windy, but it was really fun. Spent from his Saturday saddle time, Greyhound opted to do the 46 miler and I did the 76 alone. About 50 miles in a rode with a roadie on a Cannondale that was faster than mine downhill. The nerve! I've only been passed by one bike downhill since I got Lucy, and it wasn't a Cannondale. We chatted for a bit and it was obvious he had Roadie Superiority Syndrome, but I felt so bad for him I didn't drop the IM bomb. It's rude. Besides, he looked like my first spinning teacher Don, and Don's great.

I finished the ride with no problem, though my bike computer said I did 80 miles and the map said it was a 76 mile route. I don't trust my bike computer, so I rode 5 miles at home before hitting my apartment pool for 30 minutes at around 1800 yds. Go me for actually being focused! I woke up Monday feeling a little stiff, but not really very sore. Go figure.

Oh right... til I took a shower. Apparently my JCC top doesn't cover my lower back. I did this to myself:

Try not to stare at my stretch marks, okay?

Yeesh! Funny story about that picture: I showered, put on lotion, and asked Craig to take a picture of my back for my blog. "Try to avoid getting crack in the picture, but if you do I can crop it" was my warning (aren't I nice to you guys?). He took a picture and handed me the camera.

I was staring at my butt.

"AHAHAHA you just got mooned with your own butt!" He was hysterical. I had to admit it though-- that's pretty dern funny.

It would have been more impressive if I'd waited another few hours for the burn to turn purple, but I didn't want to get mooned. Again. I'd had a hard enough day as it was.

I'm a big cheater!

2007-02-21T20:24:00.000-06:00

As if being/having a lazy butt weren't enough. Last week I had my first eval with the PT. On top of my weak gluteus medius (not medialus unless, you're like, sooo ignorant. Like me five minutes ago) that the doc found, my PT told me my hamstrings, quads, and outside shins (I don't know what that's really called and she only touched it for indication) are also weak and I have very limited range of motion in my hips despite the fact that all my other leg/foot joints are loosey goosey. My muscles are just too tight. Upon hearing this, Craig asked the obvious: "So what DO you run with?"

My adductors of course.

Dude, do not mess with my adductors. I don't know how, but they make me run. Recently they have been found compensating for my hamstrings, glutes, and quads. Yes, my quads. They're not even on the same side of the leg! But here I am after day 3 of supervised PT with sore hip flexors (which are also manly cheating beasts) and adductors. I tell my PT that my legs are cheating, but try as I might I can't get them to stop completely. I wish I could sit down with my overbearing muscles and explain to them that if we're all investing 10 hours a week in exercises and stretches on top of time and co-pays to get into rehab, we need to pull together to get the problem fixed as economically as possible. Unfortunately, muscles don't speak English.

Pssssht. Communist bastards.

I kid of course. I'm not an Speak English or Disappear kinda girl. I just want to teach my muscles that they've been misdelegating the work for too long. Let my hiney work!

Despite the fact I am really bad at what I'm doing, I'm glad someone is watching me lift my butt from the table and roll my ankle from side to side; I really do suck at everything. My weaknesses astound me and force me to question how I haven't ended up with something serious effing up yet, but it guess that's only because I'm only doing exercises on things that aren't up to par. During my eval the whole "holding off on that iron man" thing came up again, and it occurred to me how silly my whole situation was. At that point I'd basically only glanced at my exercises, claiming to not have time to do them every night. But with my race dangled in front of me like a carrot it's so much easier to find the time. And I'm so willing to point out my therapy shortcomings in hopes of improving faster (Me:"Should I be feeling this here?" PT: "Nope. Your core needs some work. Do you ever do anything with it? I think we'll add crunches to your exercises every day from now on." oh, you skanky PT. A triathlete with a weak core? What's the point of living? I am filled with shame.)

If you see me around, tell my ass to get in gear and my adductors to quit bullying my quads. I'm not sure, but they all might speak Dutch.

Or Pig Latin. 'Cause I'm klassy like that.

"you're brave"... for a complete wussy

2007-02-20T22:07:00.001-06:00

My pool closed for 8 whole days starting yesterday. Seeing as I need the pool to both run and swim, this is going to be a serious PT/stretching/bike week, huh? I could go to a different Y for my pool workouts, but the truth is I'm nothing without a Y between home and work. Sloth takes over pretty quickly for me.

I do have a 18-20 yd "lap" pool at my apartment complex though, and that pool stays heated throughout the winter. I opted to hit that instead of driving 20 minutes to the next nearest Y Monday evening to stretch out my sore calves (the race) and ass (the PT). I got there around 6:20, just as the sun was sinking past the buildings.

To get to the pool you go through the little gym on the property, which was chock full of people. I cut through the gym, stripped down to my suit, and put my feet in the empty pool.

It was freezing. Crap.

It wasn't so cold that I couldn't swim, however; I just couldn't hang on the wall the whole time, which was kind of my plan. I dove in and got moving. But try as I might, I couldn't time my flipturns OR shake the feeling some psycho killer was going to drown me. I started freaking out. I knew I was being completely irrational, but I simply couldn't help myself. Who would want to drown me? Besides, there were half a dozen people a mere 15 feet away from me. I was a strong swimmer and could put up a good fight. I'd be fine! I would start swimming again only to start imagining seeing a severed hand or drops of blood drift by me

It was a long 40 minutes thanks to my extremely active imagination.

Finally I'd swum long enough. I hopped out, dried off, and walked to the pool exit gate--where I met my stalker. A cute little stray kitty.

I tried catching him ("you couldn't take him home anyway" said Craig, annoyed because I'd woken him up from a nap. "Yes I could" I insisted. "I could've dropped him off at a shelter tomorrow." Of course, I'd planned on keeping him forever and ever. Oh well.) but to no avail. I gave up, opened the gate, and was immediately startled by a stranger walking to his apartment.

"You're brave" he commented upon seeing me in a swimsuit. I had to laugh...Oh, the irony.

Mishelek's Austin adventure

2007-02-19T19:53:00.000-06:00

I've lived here awhile and have never made it up to Austin. Austin's supposed to be full of hippies and ideal training conditions. Oh, and UT students. While it sounds like the place I'd like, I've been a little put off by how much people love Austin. My opinion of hippies? Rich, unnecessarily smelly, and a little immature. I like liberals, but hippies? Thanks but I already graduated from college. And seriously, how much better could Austin be than Houston? It's in Texas for crying out loud!

Amazing or no, I headed up to my state capital early Saturday morning to get in a 36 mile ride with K (in "the hills" of Texas) and a swim in Barton Springs, a spring/pool that happened to stay around 68 degrees year round and happened to be free in winter. Woo! I love free!

K was late arriving (she was driving from San Antonio so I cut her some slack) and I was early, so I hit a loop on the veloway to get some extra mileage in before she showed up. The veloway is a 3.1 mile track for cyclists and roller bladers, and quite fun to ride. It kicked the crap out of the 1.2 mile picnic loop we have down here in Houston, though our loop has fewer tight turns. Anyway, I decided after one loop it was warm enough for shorts but cool enough to sport my arm warmers. K showed up, got ready, and we were off to ride.

--On the highways of Austin. Wtf? K had gotten our route from someone on the RunTex forums. Apparently this guy was not interested in sharing Austin with anyone else because we were on, like, highways. With cars whizzing by at 70 mph. This in and of itself would be fine because people were much more cautious around us than H-town drivers would've been-- but I don't care how nice a motorist is when a crosswind knocks you into traffic. Hard to avoid smashing into a wayward bike with peace love and happiness, eh?

But the actual route aside, the ride was great. We had a headwind about 55% of the time, a tailwind 20% of the time (though it was a most excellent one), and that sweet crosswind that lured us into cars the rest of the way. I didn't mind the headwind because, well, I'd rather eek out a hill going 5 mph than die on the bumper of a hybrid sedan. But that's just me. Besides, wind is good mental AZ training because it blows...no pun intended. The only bad thing about the ride (besides, as I've said 6 times, the actual route) was that I was so scared of being blown over or losing control of my bike that I never got into aero. My backneck? It doesn't like that. I also forgot to do laundry last week and had to wear my Pearl Izumi gloves, which suck like all things Pearl Izumi (a little brand unloyalty for you). Last season I thought my tri bike was making me lose motor functioning in my left hand, because my trouble started when I bought my new ride, but that's also when I bought new riding gloves. Since I didn't have any trouble last weekend in my trusty Specialized gloves and I was hitting aero pretty regularly I'm pretty sure it's the gloves. Remind me to burn them.

Anyway, after our return we snagged this picture (yes, gratuitous arm warmer shot-- that triangle of shoulder ended up sunburnt by the way)

and hit Barton Springs

where I saw this car and had to laugh:

You can't see very well because I didn't want to get caught taking the picture, but this guy has a 140.6 sticker, a "Ford Ironman Finisher" sticker, a USAT sticker, and a USACF sticker on his car. Where's your FINA sticker Mr. Overzealous Sticker Man?

Anyway, at Barton Springs there were about 3 old guys swimming sans wetsuits, and they made K and I feel like wusses. But K had just gotten her wetsuit the day before and it takes me a few swims to get used to putting mine on so it doesn't hurt my shoulders-- those were our excuses, and we thought they were good ones. We swam/floated for 40 minutes before going to the Austin marathon expo to pick up our packets.

Pre-Race Austin thoughts

We waited in our separate lines for over 30 minutes to pick up our half marathon packets. Why so long? Apparently Austin race directors aren't the most efficient, and this was no exception. Despite the fact that the half marathon sold out and the full didn't, there were equal numbers of packet pickup booths for each race. The marathon side didn't have a single line-- folks just walked right up, got their packet, and skipped away in a hippie-induced haze. Not so for the half. Each packet pickup booth was for 1200 bib numbers (0-1200, 1201-2400, etc), and two borderline incompetent volunteers were at each station. They ran out of small t-shirts, pens, and safety pins (hello? Is this a surprise item? Shouldn't it be one of the easiest things in the world to estimate the number of safety pins that racers will need to put their numbers on their shirts? Geeeez). And to complicate matters just a little more, they ran duplicate race numbers for the half and the full marathon; for example, there were two 4823s on the course. The only difference was the half marathoners had an H in front of their numbers. This caused a small amount of confusion from folks picking up their packets as they often went to the wrong set of booths.

After the wait, I headed to the Polar booth with a friend who needed a new transmitter ("Tough nuggets" they told him. He ended up having to buy a whole new HRM). I was ready to ask what idiot thought my watch was well designed. I spoke to a very ripped but not so intelligent looking rep about my complaints. His very first remark? "Well you can replace that strap with another one, maybe a velcro type strap." Did they sell those? "Oh no, but you can buy them other places." So let's get this straight: there's a problem with your product and your advice is to fix it with someone else's watch strap? Ridiculous. "Well WHY is the strap so large? I'm the biggest triathlete I know" I started in again. He told me it was so that the watch could mount onto a bike. Oh neat. I bought a running model-- not the biking model, which has its very own model number and accessories-- that doesn't fit on my wrist but does fit on my bike. I call b.s. There's a way to make this strap comfy for me while still fitting to the bike mount I'll never have. If not, they could at least have narrowed the band enough so that the plastic thingy could actually hold the excess strap. I gave up with a sigh and resolved to buy a tacky velcro strap.

The expo as a whole I didn't hit, but I did score a free loaf of Oroweat bread. Man, I love their bread-- it's the only kind I buy. And I got a new kind for free! It made my weekend!

Post-expo my friends and I got some Trudy's (good, but over hyped) and I treated myself to a Mexican Martini (also good and even more over hyped). I turned in around 9 PM while the other 4 roomies hit the hot tub. 5 people in a hotel room? With one wench complete with wetsuit and bike? Oh yes. SpringHill Suites-- I've got your number. And I like it.

I'll have a double: Austin Half Marathon Race Review

2007-02-19T19:50:00.000-06:00

I can't wait til the end. I PRed. Again. Coming into Sunday I had zero expectations for the race. Last weekend I'd run well, but it was on a flat beach. What's more, my foot pod said I only ran 12.9 miles. Could it be I didn't run a 2:02 after all?

Fear not! My calibration of my foot pod is off; the race was a complete half marathon, but I didn't know that when I was fretting about my Austin performance. Sure, Surfside went well, but who runs fast 2 weeks in a row? Besides, the famed downhill Austin course was replaced with a decidedly hillier version in 2007. Considering I'm running in a pool right now, I'm not so much into the hill training. I decided that I wanted to just run a strong negative-split half marathon. 2:11? Sounds like a fine goal time to me.

Until Saturday rolled around. After riding the hills with no soreness I knew I could run the steeper, shorter versions of the run course. I wanted to break 2 hours. And, well, I wanted to beat my friends; the Houston marathon was painful for me and my pride, and we needed some vindication.

We got downtown at 5 bleeping 20 in the bleeping morning. It was freezing, and we dawdled in getting away from the warm car, then in the warm at&t oasis til 6:50. Another reason I was pokey? I hadn't used the facilities yet. I've never run without, well, moving other parts of my insides first, and I didn't want any trouble during the race. E offered me Imodium, but I really believe that you should be able to regulate your body so that you don't need antipoop drugs come race day (unless you drink Mt. Dew during the race-- of course). What was wrong?

Rewind to Friday lunch, when I went to a Brazilian steakhouse. Instead of my 6-8 servings of fruits and veggies at noontime, I had meat on top of meat on top of meat. Holy shit it was good, but it cemented my digestive tract for days--And that's no easy task in my neighborhood. Still, come Sunday morning there was nothing I could do. We got on the bridge at 6:50, turned back toward the Capitol to watch some fireworks, and suddenly were off!

We had started by the 4:30 pace sign-- which was within 5 feet of the 4:15, 4:45, and 5:00 pace signs. Pace setters didn't seem to know their asses from potholes, which doesn't make sense to me. Shouldn't those people be in place before folks line up? Couldn't marks be made on the bridge to indicate where they should stand? Did anyone plan that part of the race at all? Oh sigh. Never mind-- it was so crowded that I don't think it would have helped our case to be in better positioning. Heck, we were passing walkers a mile into the race. What idiot walker starts in the front or middle of the pack? I ditched everyone right away (not that they were far behind me) and focused on passing people. Geez, there were so many! 9:31 first mile, and it wasn't pretty. 9:12. 8:52. 8:57 (I think there was a hill). 4 miles in and I felt fabulous. Mile 5 I got a Hammer gel in, but was shocked when it was cold when entering my mouth. It didn't go down smoothly and my stomach hurt through 6 and 7 (where I was holding my pace at just under 9:03 per mile). I was doing really well, and on track for a sub 2-hr race. But could I hold it?

Just as I passed mile 7 some old dude wearing all black save an American flag bandana passed me. "I've been trying to catch you for 4 miles!" He exclaimed, running off. Now, I don't care how nice of a man he was-- he was old and I wasn't letting him out of my sight. For the next 4 miles, Dennis (I later found out) was within 20 feet of me. And even though he stopped for water more than I did, I couldn't catch the geezer. Bugger!

I got my second gel in at mile 9 at a Pirates of the Caribbean aid station, which I *just* loved. This gel was warm (and freaking delicious! I love you Hammer raspberry!) and went down easy. I continued on. Just before mile 10 the halfers turned off, missing out on a hill--yea! A 5k left and I was nowhere near going over 2 hours. My new goal was to beat 2 hours on the clock. I was pretty sure I'd started around 3 minutes after the gun (which we never heard... not that we were paying attention seeing as they shot off fireworks at the very same time) and could make a 1:57. I didn't bank on two enormous hills. At mile 11-- on the first superhill-- I finally caught up with Dennis again. "I've been trying to catch you for 4 miles!" I said. He seemed surprised but pleased to see me. "Wait up, I need some water!" he said. We both stopped at the aid station, but I left a few steps in front of him. I was on a mission.

Blah, blah, run, run, last mile. I was bookin'. We turned toward the finish past the state capital building, and I was struck by the fact I was running in my state capital. What a strange thought, here in the middle of a race. Oh well. A few minutes later I was racing a huge dude who'd started his kick, but I couldn't keep up. Then I saw the clock: 2:01:36, and I was still far away! I was shocked it'd taken so long to cross the starting line and crushed that I missed my secondary goal. I crossed the mat in 2:02:05 gun time.

And 1:56:32 chip time. Awesome!

Of course, I could have gone faster. I zoned out in mile 5 and mile 8, my first mile was way too slow, and my heart rate never crept past 153 except on the hills and my very last sprint. Nevertheless I ran the race well, negative splitting the bastard by about 90 seconds. I also did well with my nutrition.

Post race I ganked some bananas and granola bars (poor spoils compared to a finisher shirt-- Austin doesn't give them for the half. Is the half significantly cheaper than other 1/2s that get shirts? No. They're just a-holes that way) and met up with my friends, all of whom had had good races. B was 58 seconds behind me but never saw me the whole way, strange because I was wearing yellow. Ah well. We got some Kerbey Lane breakfast, showered, and headed outta town, back to Sunday chores and Monday dread.

You know what? I loved Austin. I really didn't want to but the fact is the place felt like a Texas Cincinnati. I liked the size and the training venues. I liked the hills. Things that did suck were the prevalence of Christian and Spanish radio stations--4+ of each-- and a lack of racial diversity, which I guess isn't too surprising for a Texas mid-sized city. Still, seeing lots and lots of white people always makes me feel uncomfortable, like I'm doing something wrong. That aside, I want to live there. Craig doesn't. But that's a problem for another day, not now while I am still basking in the second race of my life that I'm truly proud of. And not now while my calves are SO sore from riding and running. And not while I'm hoping my PT doesn't notice how very tender my feet are.

Now is a happy time... full of ass-kicking. Hopefully my PR streak lasts through Saturday when I do my last illegal run and try to break 50 in the Rodeo Run. Don't worry, I'll let you know in a ridiculously long and excited post. It's just what I do.

Good stuff, good stuff

2007-02-14T22:13:00.000-06:00

Bear with me kids. Only a few more posts til I get this run outta my system!

A couple really cool things have happened this week, and though it's only Wednesday I'm compelled to share.

1) I went to the HRTC monthly meeting on Monday. The food wasn't the best (pasta with a white sauce and MUSHrooms... barf), but it was a good meeting: Meet the Race Directors meeting. Dave, the revealer of my current crotchal comforts on the bike, hooked me up with some Clif bars and bloks (yesss). I hung out with my tri girls, every one faster and prettier than the next. But most importantly, I won a comp entry into a local race--a duathlon.

I've never done a duathlon, and I fully expect to get my ass kicked. But for $5 worth of raffle tickets I won a $40 race entry into something I've kinda wanted to try, but didn't want to spend the money to get humiliated. Now I get to do it essentially for free! Awesome! I can't decide if I should do the one in May or July, though; May will only be balls hot versus July's freaking balls hot, but I'm not sure I'll be allowed to run yet in May. Maybe I'll hold off on a decision til my next doctor visit next month. Good idea? I think so.

2) Two weeks ago I emailed the Buffalo Wallow guy to explain that I was an A-hole who didn't stay for awards and to tell him how impressed and entertained my friends and I were at the race. Last night I came home to a package with my award! An admittedly crappy medal (again, $11 race) and one of those drawstring bags like the Ford IM bags, only way better: it has nicer material, mesh pockets, Velcro, zippers, and "Buffalo Wallow Cross Country" screened on it. The extra stuff on it will definitely get it used more often than the Ford bag, though the Ford bag looks more waterproof.

3) I found out last night I can almost get my heartrate as high during aquajogging as I can running intervals. The bad: I chafed my underarms on the float belt. Any suggestions on how to avoid this? I want to post on my tri club forum but I don't want to sound a) snooty, b) dramatic, or c) dumb. Do you think bodyglide will hold up for hours in the water?

4) This isn't something awesome, but I had a question: has anyone tried both BodyGlide and Sportslick? Which one do you like better? I'm a Sportslick girl myself, but I've never tried BodyGlide to get a comparison.

Happy V day lovers!

Dude, I love and hate this watch: Polar s625x review

2007-02-13T23:16:00.000-06:00

I know you don't care about what I think about stuff-- and I don't care. It's my blog, so nah-nah-nah-nah-booboo. Anyway, about two weeks ago my new HRM finally arrived in the mail: the s625x. I chose a Polar HRM for 3 reasons:

1) You can't swim in a Garmin, and I want to
2) Garmin products are gigantic, whereas Polar products are just enormous
3) With quite a bit of finagling you can hook a Polar up to a Mac, something you can't do yet with a Garmin
4) Finagling is a word. To be honest, I'm surprised. Thanks abc check!

I love my heart rate monitor. Initial programming was pretty easy, including the calibration of the foot pod, which I wear on my shoe. The pacing from the shoe isn't 100% accurate (I can't decide why... leave it to me to screw up a one-mile steady run), but it gives me a good ballpark. Besides, if anything the pacing seems to be slower than what I'm actually running and I still can tell when I speed up or slow down, which is the most helpful thing for me. The watch capabilities are also great, which I'm sure you already know because, like, the s625x is sooo last year. It's still taking me some time to get through all the functions, but I'm trying to slowly increase what I can do with the watch instead of trying to learn everything at once and getting frustrated. The how-to as far as programming in the user manual is also spot on, probably because it's really hard to mess up step-by-step directions in static menus.

I also really like the new chest strap-- the T31 thingies I think? The strap is much more flexible/comfortable, and I like how you can take the transmitter off and pop it into a Polar/Adidas sports bra or top. Good thinking guys!

As for connecting to my computer, I had some real fears. But once I sidestepped my lack of computer savvy I had absolutely no problems. How cool!

My complaints are much more interesting. I really hate my new watch. First and foremost, Polar people are straight up idiots. Sure, I'm wearing one of their electronics and I like what it can do. By now you know I'm not a tiny girl-- yet I have the watch on the second smallest hole on the wrist band.

Let's think about this. A large triathlete/runner is using the second smallest band hole. She's wearing a watch made for runners and triathletes, folks not well known for their bulk. What the crap?

What's more, the very long excess end of the wristband hangs down and catches the water when I swim. I tried moving the plastic band holder to the end of the band, but it won't stay because the watch band base is too wide. Not very smart. It's stuff like this that ruins an entire product and frustrates the CRAP outta me. Why bother producing something that isn't the best it can be (Microsoft, of course, aside)? After I send my more important West U warmup email, I'm going to write to Polar to tell them to get their heads out of their butts and fix their darn watch bands so someone with a wrist smaller than 12" around can wear them.

Ahem.

Another thing: I really don't like the physical instructions in the owners manual--for example, the required motion to attach the chest strap to the transmitter. I know this isn't rocket science, but I couldn't get it at first. And it wasn't the kind of thing I wanted to force either since those transmitters don't come cheap, ya know? But reviewing the drawing on how to attach/detach the 2" plastic transmitter from the chest strap was no help; instead of something useful, there was a 2-D picture with cryptic arrows drawn in circles around the unit, and written instructions that were equally incomprehensible. Now, I know engineers are pretty crappy writers. I also understand that consumers, for the most part, have a very low standard for the quality of user manuals, especially for technical stuff. But Polar? Wake up! Every engineer in the entire country takes a Technical Writing class. Every single one. Why? Because they can't write but that doesn't excuse them from poor communication in their future careers. Ten, twenty years ago it would have been okay to get something so poorly written, but not anymore. Here's what I suggest to you: 1) hire engineers-- hey, they can be contracted for such a short job-- to write the user manual in their native languages. Or here's an idea: use focus groups to write instructions out for you before you release your product for sale. Everyday people can get this right. It's not a big job and can't possibly cost much more, but it makes the end product substantially higher quality.

Finally, I also have some problems with the chest strap. It's more flexible. It's more comfortable. Except when it was redesigned, the plastic slide thing that makes the strap longer or shorter hits right under my armpit, and there's a lot more sports bra pressure there than its previous position in the middle of my back. It doesn't make me chafe but it does leave a sensitive and ugly red mark on my skin. A minor complaint to be sure, but it would have been nice if someone had, oh, tried on the strap with some D cups and a sports bra. Is that too much to ask?

One closing thought, something that regularly upsets me. The fitness industry virtually brings me to tears sometimes with the way they toss out woman-unfriendly products. Everyone knows women aren't as active as men and are even less likely to use fitness products like heart rate monitors (someone call me out if either of those things are a lie; I am 100% sure I read the first one last week though I don't feel like digging for a citation; the second is my perception from what's available on the market). I liken women and HRMs to Macs and HRMs. Sure, neither group (chicks or Apples) interacts with HRMs much, but is it because they don't want to or they can't? HRMs aren't sized for women: poor design of the watches and the straps make them very unsavory. Why won't anyone pick up on this and design things for women besides the lowest end products like the F4? Chicks dig attention.

And small stuff.

And a wrist band that won't catch the water when they're swimming.

Why won't anybody listen to us? (tear)

No wonder my legs are rebelling

2007-02-13T21:12:00.000-06:00

I just uploaded and/or entered into iSmartTrain all my workouts since 1/22, when I really started getting into things. I broke down and bought the program after somehow getting my comp and my watch talking after a mere 4 tries/20 minutes (hint: you have to upload the adapter software. What a crazy idea!). Assuming my system doesn't crash I am officially nerded out and ready to go. As I was playing around the program post-updating I took a peek at my totals for the year. And while the total time was too low to be sharing with y'all, I was shocked to find I've run more hours than I've cycled. Incidentally I've run more hours than I've cycled and I've gone spinning, which is absurd. What idiot runs more than she rides? There's no excuse for this! I'm the one making, revising, or skipping my workouts. I intentionally won't drop the money on a coach because I don't believe in them (for me... not for you. Coaches are great; they know stuff, way more stuff than I do. But I don't want some dinky plan or some online person prepping me for a race. I need a very real-- and very expensive-- helper in my life or no helper at all except for George's advice. Besides, I do this sport for the toughness and independence aspects a la Faris Al-Sultan, albeit much much more slowly, and a coach detracts from that).

So it's with a renewed interest in my legs' wellbeing that I'm actually going to obey my doctor (except, of course, for the races). Secretly I was planning on doing the occasional casual run or interval session, but not anymore. I'm married to aquajogging. And my hiney is going to get well acquainted with that Serfas butt cushion on my bike. Oh yes. Most often you get hurt by being unlucky, deformed, or dumb; at least one of those is preventable.

P.S. George, please don't start charging me when I ask you questions. I'll cry.

Shh! Don't tell my doctor: Surfside (Half) Marathon race review

2007-02-12T21:20:00.000-06:00

My weekend was blogworthy, though Saturday and Sunday for different reasons. On Saturday, K and I hit the road to Surfside, TX (okay, okay-- Freeport, TX) for a half marathon. Highlights of this marathon:

1) Entry fee is a flat $50 regardless of whether you do the full or half
2) Stone coaster as a participant's gift (I LOVE COASTERS!)
3) Barbecue afterward, Texas style
4) Limited to 500 people
5) Run on the beach

We got there around 7 for the 8:00 race and parked about 40m away from the packet pickup/finish line area. We got our packets (and a yellow dri-fit shirt), I snagged some energy bars, and we headed back to the car to warm our frozen body parts. I hadn't brought tights to run in, thinking "Mishele, it's going to be 50 out in Texas." This thought is not reasonable, yet it's one I continue to formulate despite having lived here for 25 months of my life. There I was, sitting frozen on a beach in 15 mph winds with no damn tights.

Oh well. I changed from my tri tank (that kept riding up on love handles on the ride down) into a red compression top with a long sleeve dri-fit over it [note: I forgot to do laundry for 2 weeks in a row and therefore was down to 1 sports bra, non-ideal running shorts, and well, compression tops]. K let me borrow some gloves someone had left in her car, and in no time we were off to the start. It was blustery, but looking to be a fun time.

Off we went. The crowd ran (jogged?) down the beach with an attitude more like that of ultramarathoners than marathoners, and K and I loved it. For the first mile I ran with her until she started walking-- K runs 9/1s, which for you non-runners is 9 minutes of running and 1 minute of walking. Sounds slow? A good 9/1er or 5/1er can kick marathon ass. But K runs a little slower than me, so I set off on my own pace. After a 10:50 first mile I settled into a 9:36 pace until 2 1/2.

That's when we turned around. Right before the turnaround I was sweating my ass off. Should I take off the long sleeve? It was just such a pain with my hat on. Besides, I was wearing a compression top underneath... was it fair to subject these unsuspecting runners to me in a compression top?

I decided it wasn't. The long sleeve stayed on. And boy was I glad I had some sense of decency because as soon as I turned around I was punched in the face by the wind. For the next 6.55 miles. At first my pace stayed at 9:41. About mile 5 it slowed to 9:47. Had I gone out too hard? Bummer! And I'd taken it so easy the first few miles; my heartrate was still in the mid-150s (aren't I obnoxious now that I have a heart monitor again?). By mile 8 I was struggling to stay around 10:00 pace, and my heart rate hit 162. Where the H was this turnaround?

Just past the mile 9 marker I saw the it. Hooray! Out of the wind! My HR dropped like a rock to 150. I was running 9:19 pace and felt amazing. Mile 10, I had my second gu and shot off like a rocket, picking off the innocent runners in front of me. 9:01 pace. 8:47 pace. 8:29 pace (the pace at which I finally got my HR over 160 again). Mile 12. 8:12 pace. 7:52 pace. Mile 13. The finish!

When I could see the clock I got a little confused. I was expecting to finish around 2:07 due to my rough time in the wind (I had my display only showing the actual time of day, my pace, and my HR because I forgot to get splits til mile 3, and then I missed a few of the mile markers). But there it was, reading 2:02. Go me! I finished in 2:02:32 on my watch, passed the clock on 2:02:36, and somehow got written down as a 2:02:47 (nope! No chips. Just two volunteers with notebooks and stop watches). Since I was out of the 5 foot chute and stretching by 2:02:47 I'm a little peeved that's what they got down, but what're you gonna do? Besides, what's 11 seconds? I'd just significantly PRed. That's what you do when your only independent half marathon you walked 1/3 of it-- but that's another story.

Almost as soon as I collected my finishers towel and the best medal I've gotten in awhile I was cold. K wasn't going to finish til at least 2:24 by my calculations, so basically I was screwed. I couldn't put my gloves back on because I'd used them as tissues, and inside the clubhouse was too hot with all the runners and barbecue hanging out. I tried to stretch out of the wind til about 2:22, when I got impatient and started walking back on the course. After a 200 of painful walking I saw K. She looked great! I ran in with her til she started her kick and I couldn't keep up. She finished in 2:29, beating her goal of 2:30. We got some eats, clothes, and headed back to the city.

This race was phenomenal. I loved running on the beach, which was like running on a trail: hard packed and very forgiving on the knees. I ran awhile with some cool guys, both of whom were doing the full marathon (they got to run another 6.5 down the beach before turning around, which doesn't sound like fun to me). I also saw Greyhound's Coach T, a high school cross country buddy of mine (she only ran a 1:43. Poor thing. She looked cool as ice too, just gliding along the course. I'd really hate her if she weren't nice). Afterward the food was great-- of course.

Crappy things: Well, the timing for one. Wah! 11 seconds! The aide stations, while supplied with well-mixed gatorade endurance and water, were only a single table long; it was very easy to miss them, and they were pretty far apart. The mile markers were also in bad places for some miles, and those would be nice to get splits from (though it's safe to say my second half completely destroyed my first one). There were also no directions to the race site, which I thought was weird and a little frustrating. Other than that I had nary a complaint, and those I do have aren't very heartfelt ones.

Chafe report: Thank god for compression! All clear.

Aftermath: K and I went to pick up our packets for Sunday's ride, then I hit the Y to do some single side lifting and 30 minutes of aquajogging. It didn't suck, though I did have to suffer through the jokes of high school lifeguards. Dear god, was I that annoying when I was a lifeguard? Yes. *shudder*

Sunday I woke up tight but not sore. While running I'd tried to engage my ass ("if you're so big why can't you do anything??") to help my feet; I was 50% successful. Try as I might, my left ass refused to cooperate, but my right one played along. I ended up with a very sore (still) and swollen left foot, but my right was just a little puffy on Sunday. Regardless, the left hurts enough to keep me from running... til next Sunday for the Austin half. Mostly doctor's orders.

Oh, one last thing. I never told you I'm unfat again; I'm back to IM WI weight. Hooray! I think I still have some muscle to put back on but at least I'm on the right track-- which isn't a running track. Sigh.

Edit: Race pictures are up here. There's one good one of me, and you're welcome to practice your voyeur skills and look me up, but I don't know how to post pictures from the internet. I suck. I'm also bib #450. The results are up here... I posted a 5th place of 26 folks in my age group. Whoopee!

Man down, man down!

2007-02-09T18:33:00.000-06:00

No, I didn't fall, though that would be preferred to, oh, being banned from running. It would also probably be a funny story, too. The best I can do on the funny front today is mention that I tooted SO LOUDLY as I left the pool on Wednesday night that I covered my face to stifle my blushing and giggling. You could seriously hear it across the eerily silent pool. Hopefully it scared those new swimmers away so I can hog a lane to myself next time. (just kidding!)

Here's the story. My marathon sucked hemorrhoid hiney, and apparently for no reason. I actually trained for crying out loud! Since that fateful run my feet have been killing me. Any long run makes me feet feel bruised and swollen for about three days afterward, and I personally think that's weird. The pain has been creeping up my feet and I feared I was looking at plantar fascitis soon, though admittedly the pain was in a different spot than the last time that flared up. I opted to get it taken care of when it was a nuisance rather than a training-killer (besides, I could ask about the top of my feet hurting after 20+ milers), but I decided to skip the chiro this time--my friend's dad couldn't fix me up like PT did for my backneck problem two years ago, and last year my trip to the Chiro (Who Shall Remain Nameless because another tri blogger loves 'im) effed up my back in a new and delightfully uncomfortable place. No offense to anyone in the field, but I'm sticking with traditional medicine this go-round. I went to see a guy (Dr. Dude) referred to me by a triathlete I hold in the highest esteem, a fast little French beauty named Stephanie. Not only is she nice, gorgeous, and speaks with an accent (who doesn't like that?) she's supportive of slow folks like me even though she breezed through IM FL last year in 11:22. I could SOO do that in my imagination. Anyway, I felt ridiculous going into the appointment today because I feel fine; my long run (the Surfside half marathon) is tomorrow, so my only running this week was the 7 miles of intervals on Tuesday, and intervals don't particularly bother me because my form is much improved in speed workouts (that's my theory anyway). So today I was expecting Dr. Dude to look at me like I was an idiot (is there a doctor in the world that doesn't do that?) and tell me to get orthodics, the cheapest and easiest band-aid for my pain, pay him $29384, and quit wasting his time.

Fortunately for my feet and unfortunately for my 4:40 IM marathon dream, he didn't do that. My gait is a mess. My weight is funny on my feet. My gluteus medialus (I think... not my maximus, which is a workhorse, or my minimus, which wasn't mentioned) is a weenie POS. My hamstrings are tight. My Achilles are so tight and inflamed he thinks I might have tears in them. Both my IT bands are in bad shape, something I was more than willing to dismiss.

"Oh they're always like that."
"This doesn't concern you?"
"Not really--I just ice my knees and take ibuprofen when I go to sleep that night. It's only my right one anyway."
[Dr. Dude moves my leg and touches my left IT band]
"Okay, maybe it is both."
[Dr. Dude nods in victory. I sigh in defeat.]

Keep in mind I feel fine. He suggested I get a gait analysis, start PT, and quit running.

Completely.

"That's fine next week {this is a lie since I fully intend on running the Austin half next weekend because it's already paid for. Same thing for the 10k the next weekend where I was going to destroy the small company chick 25-29s along with my previous 50:03 PR}, but I'm running a half marathon tomorrow. I was going to run it slowly and it's on the beach. Is that okay?"

[You're-an-idiot look shot at me] "Not really. You're going to get worse the more you run on it. But it's your choice."

Which I translated to mean: let's run. Slowly. The long and the short of it is I run races I pay for. I'm not dropping $100 just for my "health," especially when all I'm doing is bruising my feet. Besides, I'll try very hard to keep my form clean.

Now that racing has been brought up, how important was this ironman? he wondered aloud. Because 4 endurance races in 19 months was a lot on my body, not even considering the marathons. {Good thing I didn't mention that I wanted to do a 50 miler this fall!}

No Arizona? Out of the question. I conned K into doing IM AZ with the understanding that we'd be out there together. I'm already signed up for the Janus Charity Challenge. My hotel room is booked. I've been lifting this off season. I've really been running--I'm way ahead of any other year! This is my last ironman til After Law School, my last opportunity to break 13 hours this side of 30, my only chance at redemption for Wisconsin. So no, I won't be missing this ironman if I have the crawl the thing. It's a little important to me.

My prognosis is good though. Apparently I'm with a tough therapist who will whip my gluteus medialus in shape if it kills me. I can elliptical, do step ups* ("Oh, step-ups are wonderful. Yes, definitely keep doing those"), lift, bike, swim all I want--just no running. Oh, and I can aqua jog. I can do aqua jog intervals. I can do aqua jog long runs. I can work on my aqua jog form. I can try aqua jog drowning myself in self-pity and boredom. Lucky me! But in the end--possibly even by April 15th--I will be a balanced, faster runner. May visions of a healthy stride and personal bests stay with me when I'm in the deep end of the Post Oak Y... instead of those kill-the-lifeguard-because-this-is-obviously-all-his-fault thoughts. Because, come on, the Y is a place to promote Judeo-Christian principles, not homicide.

I guess I should also add this is a great opportunity to focus on my bike leg and become all the cyclist I can be, right? Just wanted to throw that out there. I see the silver lining, but positive posts? They're not my thing.

*Just a little shout-out to GYGO for suggesting adding step ups to my training. I wouldn't have considered it and now it's going to be an integral part of my therapy and training. Woo!

Race review: Buffalo Wallow 6k

2007-02-09T18:32:00.000-06:00

I’d better get this race review off my chest before I’m two behind, huh?

Last Saturday I dragged B and E, master of the marathon and 50k running partner, down to the Buffalo Wallow 6k. For $11 we got to run a chip-timed event on the 2003 collegiate XC championship course. There were awards 3 deep but we knew beforehand we stood no chance of getting them. Before I saw the course, my goal was initially to break 35:00. Then it was to break 34:00. Then it was to run 8:30 miles (not too hard for me on a track) to end up under 32:00. E and I drove down in my stinky truck, parked with almost an hour to race time, and headed to the course.

It looked familiar. It was the last place I’d done hill training; one week I did the whole workout and nearly puked and was thankful that the second time I saw those hills I was tapering for Wisconsin and therefore got to cut out early. These were serious hills. Sure, they weren’t long, but they were steep. And muddy.

I changed my goal to back to under 35:00.

E and I walked the course while she made fun of the layout; the course was marked on either side with orange flags, something I considered adequate since XC races are often marked with cones, flags, or spray paint. The race consisted of 3 2k loops with about 4 very steep hills and one gradual one. As we finished walking the course, B showed up. He too made fun of the course (hello? Didn’t anyone run cross country at any point in middle school or high school? Didn’t anyone go to at least one race in grade school or college? Geez.) and expressed surprise that we were getting chip timed. To be honest I was too; I’d missed that part on the race description.

Anyway, after a few mins of stretching and putting on our chips (“Where are the plastic ties to hold the chip on? Ohmygosh I have to untie my shoes to put it on?”) It was time for the Open race. I was surprised when there were only about 40 people there because there had been a lot more the year before. Oh well. The gun went off and so did those crazy runners! Through the mud, up a hill, down a hill, up a hill and whew! I was pooped. Only 30+ more minutes! B and I were pooped within the first quarter of the first loop. We chatted for a few minutes, and then he ran off to chase some skank who’d just passed me. I never caught him again and he beat me by just over a minute.

With B and the skank gone so quickly, I settled into what I thought was a quick pace. I had my new HRM on (to be reviewed later!) but didn’t have the foot pod calibrated for my pace yet so I couldn’t gauge my speed with the hills and mud. I wasn’t feeling great and cursed myself for not warming up. How many times do I have to learn this lesson? Sure, an IM has a built-in warmup of a swim, but a running race doesn’t. By the end of the first loop (11:24 back to the start line) I was sucking wind. Get my lap time, up a hill, down a hill, up a hill, check heart rate. 165. Not too bad. I continued on my way and got passed by a frail looking man with bad form and Bill, a thicker 30-34 yr old in a marathon finisher shirt. I tried to keep up with them but failed. This race wasn’t fun at all! I resolved that I had to pass at least one person in the second half of the race--it didn’t matter if it was someone with a broken leg or an 8 year old--it just had to be someone.

75% through my second lap I saw my track coach sporting a HRTC sweatshirt. “You look like you’re having fun, girl” he commented cheerily. No I didn’t. “Welcome to cross country.” I don’t know if it was having sufficiently warmed up, wanting to impress my coach, or realizing I only had one lap, but I kicked it in gear. By the end of the second lap (11:47) I had passed frail man and was breathing down Bill’s neck. Bill and I joked back and forth about how much we sucked through most of the third loop, but on the last hill I destroyed Bill and never looked back. It was all downhill from there, just a few minutes from the finish. I’d also passed another man and another boy in the third lap and had another boy in my sights. Roar!

It was all well and good til we saw the finish line. Bill was about 4 yards behind me when he started sprinting the last 300m in, passing me and my new target. I tried to sprint but couldn’t... I was looking at a pukefest if I sped up at all, and while that’s always a sign of a well-fought battle, I wasn’t inspired to prove my effort. I came in at 33:34 (8 seconds behind Bill! If you can kick like that you’re just not racing hard enough), a decent effort and just over 9:00 pace. Considering the hills and my lack of spikes, I was thrilled.

I didn’t snap any pictures. Sorry. Here are some stolen one from 2003 though (it wasn’t that muddy last Saturday):
The first hill:

No, my ass doesn't look like this. But the hill did!

These pictures snagged at http://www.fast-women.com/photos/usaxc03/index.html.

Afterward there was quite the surprise for me. Bottled water--cool. Bananas, oranges--better. Clif bars--superb. Kolaches--holy shit this is the best $11 I ever spent. B and I waited at the finish for E, who’s not as much into the speed running... especially considering she ran six miles before I picked her up. Why I’ll never understand. We ate, talked about how great of a time we had, and left after the Masters race began and before the awards ceremony.

So you can imagine my surprise when I found out I came in third. Sure, there were only 4 women in my age group, but there are also all those invisible entries who never even got out to the race. I’m happy. Besides, it was a great race, very cheap, and super fun. Hills are good for me, right?

Afterward I dropped E off and hit the Y for a power lifting session, my first one. It didn’t go well considering I pulled a muscle in my neck doing some back/tricep machine. I don’t care if I’m boring my acclimatized muscles--I’m sticking to my normal routine of lifting Monday and Wednesday and doing single side exercises on the weekend! After lifting I ran out to Memorial, did a loop, and ran back to the Y to give me about 14 miles for the day. Not too shabby. After peeking in the pool to look for K, I decided to go home and take a nap.

Funny story about my run. Saturday was the second time I used my HRM. As I left the Y, my HR crept up from 144 to 150, and I decided I’d stay there the entire run. Sometimes I ran faster. I stopped at red lights. I got water. Never ever did my HR move from 150. “Wow my ticker’s a consistent mofo” I thought. But as I headed home I got mad. I was pooped! This was way harder than it was when I started, and my HR should reflect that. I started doing sprints between telephone poles (bad idea). 150 HRM. This blasted thing doesn’t work!!

Then I realized I had it on avg hr the whole time. I clicked it over and my heart was chugging along at 157--no, now 156--like I’d expect from a sprint that wasn’t very sprinty. I’m an idiot.

Next stop: Surfside half marathon!

A nightmare

2007-02-01T18:22:00.000-06:00

Last night I fell asleep thinking about my IM AZ marathon splits. Should I go out easier than last year? Could I really pull off a 4:40 marathon? It seemed doable on paper, especially since I'm about 7 miles ahead of myself from this time last year in terms of my long runs. Yes, I could do this...

I was on the run of some ironman somewhere. The Littlest Hoebag (TLH), my college roommate, and another friend had decided to race with me. I'd had a spectacular swim (1:03) and a decent bike for me (6:53). All I needed was a sub-5 hour marathon to break my goal time of 13 hours. It was all happening.

Around mile 16 I fell apart. TLH and this mystery friend forged ahead without me and I struggled to finish my second of three laps (Apparently this course was similar to the Great Floridian, which has an out-and-back before running three loops.) As I reached the beginning of this third lap at mile 20 my marathon time was 4:52. I had to be on my third lap by 5 hours even, so things were looking good--until I reached some volunteer at the third loop start. "Sorry" he sighed. "You missed the cutoff time. I'm afraid you can't continue." I was one livid little girl--this lazy S.O.B. just didn't want to volunteer and that's why he was making me quit 8 minutes before I had to(You get to know these things when it's your dream. Did I mention said volunteer looked a lot like Topher Grace?). Indeed, a group of three others had taken him at his word and walked off the course (though they didn't seem too upset). After fighting for 3 minutes with this guy he finally let me through, and I got through the loop in under an hour to finish in 13:43. As I went through the finishers area (which was kind of like a house party with lots of models in bikinis... crazy. It also had two full size pools--like Keating Natatorium set up for short course if you're a Cinci swimmer), I found an official to lay into about this crappy volunteer. He listened attentively then said, "Well he let you finish, didn't he?" Roar! I was furious.

I woke up sweaty with a sour stomach. How awful!

Interestingly enough, in real life some folks were also turned away after finishing the bike leg of the Great Floridian in 2005 (I think it was the total bike cutoff time, not the cutoff for the second loop. Since I wasn't stopped I'm not sure). We'd started 30 minutes late because the race officials refused to start with about 3 parked cars in the parking lot that we biked into and out of. After waiting around with their thumbs up their asses, they finally let us start. The cars never moved the entire race. Anyway, the city of Clermont refused to extend the road closures 30 minutes to give the racers the same elapsed time cutoffs, and as folks came in from the bike they were told they could not continue. What sucks is they had the time wrong by about 15 minutes (I was perilously close to not being allowed to continue though I'd beaten the original elapsed time cutoff by almost an hour. Good thing that didn't happen to me or someone would have lost his eyeballs.) AND once off the bike there was no danger to the racers since we were running on pretty desolate streets.

Man that race sucked. They ran out of water, volunteers abandoned their posts (and took all the nutrition and cups with them), and much of the run course was dark. But hey, at least I had exactly 8 fewer flats than this guy, right? Besides, I was the 2005 USAT national long distance runner-up for the 19-24 chicks. There's a silver lining.

Speaking of ironmen, this morning some BMW was being impatient behind me, switching lanes and driving aggressively. As he passed me I noticed he had a "140.6" sticker on his car.

If you have one of these on your vehicle, you might consider scraping it off. Why?
1) No one knows what the heck it stands for,
2) If they do know there's a 60% chance they're not impressed because they've done it too, and
3) Can you think of a more pretentious way to announce your ironmanliness? Oh please. If you must, stick the free "FORD IRONMAN FINISHER" sticker--or even an m-dot!-- on your bumper and move on with life. I don't want to detract from the greatness of the IM accomplishment, but you gotta be careful with the presentation: after all, isn't it bad enough you're sporting a nice butt, toned (and shaved?) legs, and killer abs? Enough already!

I apologize if you're sporting the 140.6, but that doesn't stop my disliking them. How 'bout an "I brake for bikers" or "Share the Road" bumper sticker instead?

Somebody pour me a drink

2007-01-30T10:43:00.001-06:00

Sunday night found me tired and without a tv show to enjoy. What’s a girl to do? I popped in the latest movie from my Netflix queue: Finding Neverland. I’d heard the movie was good.

The movie’s okay, but it’s psuedo-based on the life of J. M. Barrie, creator of Peter Pan (and apparently also credited with coining the name Wendy. Crazy). Last night I decided to hit up wikipedia to read about how much of the movie was true.

Don’t do it. Don’t click that link. It’s effing depressing.

Barrie’s childhood sucked. The kids from the movie had really crappy lives. I wasn’t orphaned like the Llywelyn-Davies kids, most of whom met bitter demises. Oh god. I was so depressed I contemplated downing the huge bottle of Chivas Regal we have on top of the fridge in its entirety.

But I didn’t because, well, there are a lot of calories in about a half gallon of booze. Besides, scotch isn’t a taste I’ve acquired just yet. Instead I decided to look up Tasmanian devils to see if they’re really only in Tasmania. Why? Because the topic came up at brunch on Sunday, though I don’t remember how. At any rate I was sure those crazy marsupial pictures would cheer me up!

Don’t do it. Don’t click that link. It’s just plain sad.

Tasmanian devils are a protected species, partly because people killed most of them because they were perceived to be a threat to livestock (and maybe they were), then the remaining population is dying from devil facial tumor disease. Check out the picture at the end of the entry: the devils get these tumors that take over their faces until they die of starvation 12 – 18 months later. Every one of them. How awful is that?

(and yes, they’re only found in Tasmania).

Dude, knowledge sucks. I’m gonna go cry now.

I'm sore and I like it

2007-01-26T13:17:00.000-06:00

Two posts today (you're welcome)-- I have to get them in now because my future mother-in-law (weird) is in town this weekend.

And it's my favorite kind of post: a training post.

It's my first week back after the marathon and so far it's gone great. I'm 12 weeks out from IM AZ. I'm keeping a food log. I bought an oganizer from IKEA for my training clothes on Wednesday. I have a training schedule. I'm in the gym just workin on my fitness (lifting). My knees feel awful but I'm pretending they don't. I'm learning to swim again but can still manage 50s of fly. I'm writing lots of simple sentences. I even did a long run on Wednesday... kinda. Want the story?

The plan was 12 miles at 9:50 pace in hopes of keeping up my running for my two back-to-back half marys next month. I've never said half mary before today, and I probably won't again, so savor it. Anyway, I thought the best approach would be three rounds of 4 miles on the treadmill with a gel and some strawberries during the two breaks. Like all my plans (ha!) it was a good one.

I started the first set at 10:15 pace for the first mile, then switched to 10:00 for the next 1.5, then 9:50 for the last 1.5. I was going to keep this pattern throughout the run because it usually takes me about 5 miles to finally feel good and accept the fact I'll be running for two hours, but then I'm rearing to go. Around 35 minutes in, however, I felt like I was going to hurl; to confirm my RPE wasn't a wussy manifestation I checked my heart rate.

168.

What? I checked again.

167.

Apparently it takes more than 10 days to get over a marathon (keep in mind I heard this on the heart rumor mill so it could be a lie). That didn't bode well for my evening plans though, because I was going to run 12 miles if it took all night. I ate my gel, got my heart rate in the upper 130s and started my next set of 4 miles. They weren't pretty. 2:15 after I started, however, I'd covered 12.1 miles and was satisfied. Slower than planned, but some days you just have to finish. The only concern I have is my foot-- it's bruised. I think I’m underpronating with my left foot, something I've never done before. It sucks because the outside of my left foot is not too keen on supporting my hefty frame. I'm thinking of actually going to a foot dude and getting the orthodics that have been recommended to me since I was 12. (Cheap much?) Hopefully that fixes my foot and helps my poor knee, my very weakest link.

Speaking of links, I want to buy a new heart rate monitor. A fancy one I can connect to my Mac (except none do... effing jerk fitness people). Does anyone have any experience with itrain or ismarttrain or whatever the heck it's called? I'm afraid to drop the dough on the HRM and the program without someone telling me it works for uploading data.

Other than that, no training drama. I did skip a swim last night, but I felt pretty gross and the Masters team was hogging the whole pool (besides, I schedule 7 days a week because I know I'm gonna wuss out one day). I'm doing my first long ride tomorrow (45 miles... I don't know where or with whom, but I'll figure that out), intervals and single side lifting (a new addition!) tonight, long swim on Sunday assuming I can do 1000s. No promises there. At any rate, life is good and it's nice to be unbelievably stinky when I get home. Funny how I forget how much I really love doing this stuff when I'm in lazy mode. It doesn't make any sense: why else would I do it?

"It's raining, It's pouring, Ice is forming"

2007-01-17T09:06:00.001-06:00

So said the top news story last night. C couldn't get over the fascination with ice that this town has, and admittedly it's somewhat ridiculous. Still, I remember last year swimming at lunch in clear skies and 70 degrees, so having wintery weather is a little strange.

This morning I was hoping I'd wake up to snow and ice an inch thick; I was sorely disappointed. After checking the traffic (not bad... sigh) I hopped in the shower, dressed, and headed out the door. Given the weather I felt okay wearning fashionable sneakers and khakis to work. I took about 15 steps out my door to get to a 1/3 set of stairs-- and I promptly slid on my ass (luckily my work computer broke part of my fall) into the icy puddle at the bottom. So basically, after being sore from running forever for two days, I still get to walk like a gimp from my very sore-- and maybe slightly bruised-- hiney today. Life is funny sometimes.

This is what awesome looks like... next to my cat:

Tagging

2007-01-13T21:46:00.000-06:00

I've been tagged. The rules:

1. Find the nearest book.

Incidentally, I "saved my legs" all day and read either on the couch or snuggled with my kitties in bed. All day. I got through The Virgin Suicides, pictured above, and William Goldman's abridged version of S. Morgenstern's The Princess Bride today; The Princess Bride is fabulous, especially with the 700+ pages of Florin historical bullshit Goldman cuts out; unfortunately, he effs it up by lots of self-indulgent babbling in the '98 version I read. [I highly recommend it if you want to get all pissed off this guy regularly gets paid (his screenplays include Butch Casidy and the Sundance Kid and the '75 version of The Stepford Wives. Take from that what you will.)] Anyway, dude is a total putz. It's a shame that such a douchebag is the guy that erected Mortgenstern's genius from the rest of his bitter satire to offer the world. Speaking of bitter, it sounds like Morgenstern and I would have gotten along just swimmingly. But anyway...

2. Name the book & the author.

The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides

3. Turn to page 123.
4. Go to the fifth sentence on the page. Copy out the next three sentences and post to your blog.

In the car, however, beside the actual living girls, the boys realized the paltriness of these images. Inverse properties were also discarded: notions of the girls as damaged or demented (The crazy old lady in the elevator every day turns out to be, when you finally speak to her, perfectly lucid.) Something like this revelation came over the boys.

5. Tag three more folks.

Mmm, I'm not a tagger as such, but I'll offer it up to my victims:
Bolder, Craig, and Frankie, who just returned back to the blog scene.

Holy crap! I’m running a marathon on Sunday.

2007-01-11T12:18:00.001-06:00

Must’ve slipped my mind what with all the bad Christmas gifts, cruises, and boyfriends-turned-fiancés falling 1/2 way over in front of me. I’m easily distracted.

I’m a little worried about the run this weekend, but not as worried as I was before I went on vacation. A story:

So I’ve established my supreme post-IM lazy fatness for 3+ months running. Judging by the other bloggers it’s not uncommon, but my misery having company doesn’t take the edge off my guilt. In my battle to extract the fat (and the lazy) from my system last month I hit the gym, my Mecca of inner peace. I started lifting and liking it—which is crazy—and trying to get in some decent long runs after the 50k. Unfortunately, "long" turned into 6 mile high-HR, sweating-like-a-pig torture sessions. I started to worry about my mental fortitude, the finest thing I have to offer triathlon and endurance racing. I’m not built. I don’t regularly coach. I’m not fast. I’m not thin. On the other hand I can do a long ride of 40 miles and eek out my first ironman because of my badassness, not my bad ass. I can make my only long run 10 miles the Sunday before and PR in a marathon because I’m young, strong, stupid, and good at racing. So what was wrong?

They say you forget the pain of long races because otherwise your body wouldn't be able to cope. Bullshit. I remember marathon pain, and it ain't pretty. To save myself just this once I decided December 30th was do-or-die. I was getting off work early and had time to get out one more long run before the marathon. Over 15 miles = doing the marathon. Fewer than 15 meant I was going to force myself to do the half instead, which would be sad because this is the only marathon I can do til I’m grinding one out in Tempe on April whatever-it-is. After the run I was heading out to Greyhound’s neck of the woods for a little flipturn fun and to meet Curly Su, who happened to be in town.

After work I went to the Y and hopped on a treadmill. My plan was a 60 minute run, a 4 or 5 mile run, then another hour if I was feelin it. I also opted to skip out on iPod usage, which I feel has run rampant in my life. I shun music because that’s what I was taught to do (George's weighty opinion doesn't help), and it was with great shame that I ever donned my armband when setting out to run.

60 minutes, 6 miles, gel. I felt good. 4.5 miles, 46 minutes, gel. I felt great, even ecstatic. I refilled my water bottle and prepared to run another 6 miles or 60 minutes, whatever came first. To celebrate, I popped on some Panic! At the Disco, the best teeny bopper stuff to come out since I was a teeny bopper (so... like last year). Then, 5 songs and 2 miles later, I started to die. I was miserable! I needed to stop, but why? My legs felt fine, I’d just gotten some nutrition, and I was finishing up the easiest leg of my run. I struggled mightily with my urge to press the STOP button but held back because of how ashamed I’d be to admit I only ran xx miles when I went to Greyhound’s. Instead, I took off my headphones with 1.5 miles left.

And suddenly I was fine. I left the Y having completed 16.5 miles in a comfortable 2 hours 47 minutes. But afterward while chillin in the pool with the likes of Grey and the Su, disappointment set in despite the lovely company. I really wanted to get in 18 miles for the day, so after driving home I ran around the block twice for a 1.6 miles. It wasn’t fast, but I finished my run with only light soreness on Saturday.

The moral? Music is the devil. May I never be tempted again*!

One last thing: marathon goal. The weather isn’t looking the best, but I think I can pull out 10:00 miles; after all, I have 3 whole long runs in the past 6 weeks, including that unhurried 31.1 mile jaunt last month. I’m hoping I hit the 4:15ish range, but I’ll take anything under my previous two years of 4:35ish. I’m not picky. If you want to track me via text message you can do so at http://www.activeresult.com/results/MSG-signup.tcl?sub_event_id=22484. My first name is Mishele and my bib number is 8636.

*Unless spinning, lifting, elliptical-ing, or stretching. Because that’s just different.

Roaches

2007-01-11T12:07:00.000-06:00

Two posts from me today. You're welcome.

I know that there are roaches hiding in virtually any restaurant, especially in Houston. They're at Maggiano's. They're at Chipotle (perish the thought!). They're at NY Pizzeria and of course are making a fine living at Whataburger. Surely you know this too, right?

So what do you expect when you see a cockroach meandering across your table? I considered this after quite the breakfast experience (which I'll get to... slowly, as is my way). If I was at an expensive dinner and I came across anything of that nature I'd waste no time in standing up and waddling out of the joint. "Screw you and your $50/plate!" I'd yell. I'd be disgusted! I'd be horrified! But most of all, I'd never part with a dime.

But what about at a fast food place? I'd probably just shrug and walk out. Don't believe me? I present to you IHOP Breakfast of the 11th. This morning, after Craig and I had finished eating our eggs and french toast, a roach popped up beside my purse. This motherfucker was HUGE. And unlike the roaches I've seen on floors of apartments and parking lots he wasn't moving very fast. Nope. He just kinda strolled along with window pane above my purse, then along the top of the booth toward me-- kinda like he was thinking of buying me a drink or striking up a conversation. Instead of freaking out, Craig and I just kinda got up and said something so someone else could kill the bug.

I wondered what would happen when we got to the register. Would they give us our meal for free? I'd hoped not because I was here as a mystery shopper (seriously, why else would I be in IHOP in the morning?) and I needed to produce a receipt or I'd have to come back and eat there the next day. I needn't have worried because our waitress offered us 10% off the bill instead ("No" grunted the manager. "Give them 20%"). We left a large tip and we all kind of chuckled when they said, "Thanks! Uh, come back and see us!" as we walked out the door.

Four hours later I'm amazed that I don't care about a roach hanging out with us for breakfast. Have my standards dropped so low? Is it really because we were already finished eating, as Craig hypothesized? I'll let you know in two months when we hit the local IHOP again. Mmm!

It was a very good year

2006-12-29T10:38:00.001-06:00

I'll be MIA over the next week because I'll be on vacation. Before you get jealous, it's supposed to rain during the meat of the cruise, so I'm not sure what that'll mean for our trips. No matter what I'm having fun though; I'm kinda glad I know about the potential crappy weather so I can mentally prepare to have an awesome time anyway. How's that for positive?

Here’s the 2006 list of Shele schtuff. Lists are easier than actually thinking about the ending year and what it means to me. Or whatever. Here goes...

Kittens acquired: 1
Jobs lost: 0 (count your blessings, eh?)
Moves: 0!
Pounds gained: 11 (ew!)
Months without candy: 1
Trips taken: 12
06 World Series won by the best team ever (in my heart at least): 1
Totally sweet sponsorships acquired: 1
Watches purchased: 1
Watches broken: 1 (curses!)
Marathons: 1
Tri Sprints: 2
Half IMs: 1
Ironmans (ironmen? Irondistances?): 2
Ultradistances: 1
DNFs: 0
PRs: 3 (10k, sprint tri, ironman)
Bikes purchased: 1
Bikes owned: 2.1

Not a bad year if I may say so. I've made some new friends—in fact, all my non-work friends are brand spanking new thanks to triathlon; Houston Racing changed my life, and blogging has been surprisingly encouraging. Who knew? May I keep my new buddies in the next year despite being a grumpy ol’ fart. What next year will bring is still more of a mystery than I'd like (case in point: no tris planned after Arizona. What shall I do? Where should I go? I can't decide!), but it's pretty exciting nonetheless. Life is good.

Happy new year to you guys! Go 2007! Woo!

If I’m even doing it, what’s your excuse?

2006-12-21T09:40:00.000-06:00

Did I mention I’m going on a 7 day cruise through the Caribbean starting December 30? Well, I am. Originally I thought this would exclude me from partaking in the GYGO Virtual Tri-Geek Challenge, but no. Meet Mishelek, race #60. If I beat everyone else out of bed (I know, I know unlikely) I can get a mostly empty pool to swim 200 yards. Then I can hit the gym’s stationary bikes for the 15 mile bike ride and run the track for a 4 mile run. Then I can shower and get off the boat to enjoy Mujahual. If I can do it, you can too (except that last part).

I don’t expect to go fast because I very much hope I’m nursing a slight hangover. But it’s not about my speed or race distance—it’s about moving my ass at the first opportunity of 2007. I think. It could also be about burning off the night before’s calories... and of course that hangover.

Holiday funnin'

2006-12-13T12:36:00.000-06:00

Here's our pretty tree:

And here are the gingerbread and sugar cookies (tantalizing little men!) that E, K, and I made on Sunday while moaning and groaning-- and celebrating-- our 50k completion:

Neat, huh?

I'm full of crap: Sunmart 50k review

2006-12-12T22:41:00.000-06:00

If you're expecting a post about my ultra distance race this weekend you certainly won't be disappointed. If you're expecting a post about poop, you certainly won't be disappointed.

Friday lunchtime. My friend E and I went out to packet pickup out by the airport during lunch. Since I was coerced by K into running Sunmart I passed on the idea to her, another ultra newbie. I had good reasons for selecting her: I wasn't sure I wanted to run with the friend who coerced me, E had some trouble in last year's marathon that I believe could have been avoided if she'd had a longer run, we were similarly paced, and this 50k was reportedly "laid back and fun." Note: "fun" should not be associated with any run over 15 miles. There is nothing fun about running for several hours. Anyway, E bought what I was selling and here we were, picking up some packets.

I took a picture of our race goodies (at the end of the post), and for an $80 entry fee we made out like bandits. Here's what we got on Friday:

A huge gym bag
Polo shirt
Long sleeve dri-fit race shirt
dri-fit hat
sunglasses
gloves
nice socks
a teddy bear (DON'T MESS WITH TEXAS proudly sewn on his back)
a portfolio
a manicure kit
a bandana
a poncho
a logo-ed water bottle
2 running magazines
a nice race program
2 Hammer Gels

Can you beat that with a stick? For our entry we also could have gone to the pasta dinner on Friday night (and bring a guest), but we opted to skip out on fighting traffic on 45. Instead, it turned out E and I both ate pizza for dinner and met up at 5ish the next morning.

The plan was for me to drive to her place, then take her car to K's house; K was driving 5 runners and a husband up to Huntsville because, well, that's what you do when you're nice and you drive a Tahoe. At E's place I was shocked at how little she brought: her fuel belt, an ID, and a Clif bar. Meanwhile, I had my T1 bag stuffed to the brim with a camelback, extra clothes, extra shoes, Gatorade, bars, gels, first aid, bodyglide, and some lubricating jelly I keep for emergencies (wink wink) (just kidding... it's for long bike rides) (um, awkward!). Anyway, we set off to K's place with E realized she didn't have the bottles for her fuel belt. "No biggie," I said. "I'll call K--she has tons of stuff like that." A short call later K was getting out her 10 oz bottles for E and all was well. 30 seconds later E realized she hadn't brought her number. "Surely you can get a replacement" I thought. Then she realized she had no chip. No chip? Okay now we were in trouble. We were already running a few precious minutes late and I was afraid this current setback would leave us driving ourselves up to Huntsville, not a pretty picture. E frantically called her husband--who never picks up his cell phone--and told him to meet us at K's right away. Somehow we only waited 5 minutes for him before we were off.

E trains like you're supposed to train for a marathon: she owns a fuel belt and does her long runs with HoustonFIT (two things I'll never do). I am not so much into marathon training because I have no respect for the distance even though it's big, and I train out of fear of race failure and a smaller desire to do well. I race to train. I'm cool with that. E is quite the opposite, and this is what I attribute to a non-flaky chick forgetting her race essentials on race morning. Anyway, no harm no foul right?

Huntsville is about 70 miles north of Houston, and I wasted no time in sleeping on my camelback wrapped in my coat (a very comfy pillow) on the way up. Before I knew it we were piling out of the car. While I put on my coat in the chilly 40 degree air I snagged my watch on my sleeve and broke the wristband. Crap. I sulked (I don't do mornings) while we set up camp, headed to breakfast, and watched the 50 mile race start 30 minutes before we were set to go. The breakfast buffet had kolaches, biscuits, sausage, ham, french toast, and a few other goodies for the crowds. I took a biscuit, kolache, and a cup of coffee to top off my 5:30 breakfast of Gatorade AM (ha! I know, I know), a Snickers Marathon bar, and a banana.

Let's pause for poop story #1. E was very concerned about needing to go on the trail, so K suggested taking some Imodium to quiet the crowd, if you know what I mean. I made a big stink about this (being anti-pill except for the occasional Tylenol PM), saying that she just needed to relax and get a good dump in her morning routine and then she wouldn't have to worry about it. I took some coffee to ahem, keep up with my pre-race morning routine. I thought all would be well since it always is. I was wrong.

Anyway, we got to the starting line, the gun went off, we started running, la la la. Since we were about to run 31.1 miles we were in no hurry to push the pace; we were running maybe 10:30 miles. Before too long we were on the out-and-back stretch of single track. E and I were behind these 4 annoying women who kept talking loudly and stopping to take pictures. Cute, huh? Except the entire field was single file on this damn trail and they were holding everyone up. The whole way out I made hand gestures while E laughed behind me. Is there anything funner than making fun of people? I think not. Anyway, we hit the 5k at around 39:00. 39? Holy jeez! The way back wasn't much better as we started our first 12.5 mile loop at 1:17, 15 minutes slower than our expected pace. I kept thinking we'd have plenty of time to make up that first 10k, but the truth is 15 minutes is a lot to make up, especially on trails. Our goal of 12:00 pace wasn't looking bright, and my secret goal of breaking 6 hours (11:35 pace) was even bleaker. Oh well. We were having a good time passing folks and enjoying the aide stations, which had Pepsi products (Mt. Dew was so good), PowerAde (mmm the blue so good), candy of every type, pb&j, energy bars, potatoes, pretzels, peanuts--you name it. We charged the hills on the first loop even though our plan was to walk because we were behind pace and wanted to make up some ground. I was a little grumpy about this hill running, but E kept pushing the pace and I got tired of saying we should slow down-- I felt wimpy. Anyway, around mile 13 I started, well, feeling somethin' heavy while driving in my Chevy. The next aide station I had a private party in the porta-potty that was quite smashing. Post poo we jetted off again to our longest leg without and aide station, 3.22 miles. Man were they the worst miles of my life. The next leg--the 2.79 mile one to the 2nd loop/finish line-- was the second longest pair of miles of my life. Finally we rounded the timing mat for our last 12.5 mile loop at 4:00:00 even... nowhere near our goal, but my consta-pooping hadn't helped matters. We ran in awkward silence for awhile, each assuming the other was mad at our pace till we broke the ice with the "I'm so glad we're doing this" chat. The air was clear for us to enjoy the rest of the race.

Till I had to poop again. This time it was so bad I had to stop and walk for fear of shitting all over the course. I barely made it into the porta-potty, which I sat in so long that someone started asking if I was alright. "No," I thought. "I'm not alright. I'm shitting my brains out and I'm 10 miles from the finish." Finally I took one of E's Imodiums so I could quit the shit. Though my stomach hurt for the rest of the race I didn't have to go to the bathroom, so I guess it worked. Anyway, post poo we continued along at a similar pace we'd held on the first loop, just under 11:00 miles. At 8 miles to the finish E got excited and started 10 minute pace, and I kept up with her for 3 miles. Finally she took off like someone had lit a fire under her ass that was similar to the one lit in mine. In the five-ish miles we were apart (on the worst mental part of the course, too, remember) she gained a nine minute lead on me, and I wasn't even going that slow (I'm thinking near 12:00 pace--it was hard to tell with no watch and no partner with a watch). Okay, maybe I did go slowly after I landed face-first in the dirt, but only for a minute! E finished in 6:48, and I rolled in at 6:57, an hour after I planned and with a 13:26 min/mile average.

Afterward I collected my sweet Sunmart afghan (see the pic) and my finishers medal before hitting the barbecue line. E's husband was there for the finish (and, unexpectedly, to have some of the barbecue) and to drive us home. I was feeling ashamed of getting my ass kicked by E, but I was also very pleased she'd done so well and finished strong... she has potential to be way faster than she is. I also had no room to be competitive at all considering I'd done but one long run of 13 miles when she was grinding out long runs every weekend for the past 2 months. Ya gotta earn it, ya know? Besides, this meant she'd conquered her mental demons; I think she'll have a great marathon next month.
Sunmart goodies:

What was most surprising for me about this race was that my muscles were not my limiting factor--it was my aching feet and grindy knees. I wasn't sore at all on Saturday except for joints, and Sunday I was pretty good except for on stairs (ha! Till I tried running to my car--not my most graceful moment). Monday and today I have a little bit of tightness, but I feel ready to hop into training again. I'm lifting today and continuing a pretty regular training schedule starting tomorrow. If I drop dead soon I'll let you know.

My thoughts

2006-12-12T22:32:00.000-06:00

Trail running is way better on my body than the roads, though it's hard to keep a good pace. We probably never ran slower than 12, maybe 13 minute miles in really hilly spots, but breaking for my crappiness and for aide stations really jacked up our overall time. I wish I'd had my own watch to just time how long it took us to just run the distance, but oh well. I went in saying I just wanted to finish and I meant it--what a great experience. I also have a newfound respect for the ultradistance events; I'll never dare try a 50 miler without serious training under my belt. Now that I'm unsore again I'm considering doing the 50 miler next year...

This was also my first race running with someone except for IM WI. Even though I was with someone I liked/respected (and who giggles at farting like I do), I'm still not keen on running with others. I don't need the company to push myself, and I really like the peace you can only get paying attention to your steps alone. It's kinda like my running is my secret I don't want to share with anyone. See how antisocial I am? I want to run for 7 hours by myself. That's just wrong.

I can't figure out what sent me into shitting overdrive. I stuck to peanut butter and bread, gum drops, GUs, and PowerAde for the most part. The only thing I can figure upset me was the soda; I drank it at about every other aide station and I wasn't burping like normal. Next time I'll stick to water and Gatorade to see if my theory holds true--but I'm bringing my own Imodium. I guess.

Reason #87 my brain thinks it's 87

2006-12-01T18:00:00.000-06:00

years old that is. Anyway, on my way to the bathroom today I thought, "Man, I really need to buy some knee-high stockings for these shoes."

Does anyone wear knee highs over the age of 12 and under the age of 60? I don't think so.

Oh bother

2006-11-25T15:58:00.001-06:00

Let me take a moment to tell you about my Thanksgiving Day Race, which I entered as an Athena thanks to some non-holiday second helpings of late. In years past, a finish of 59:00 in this 10k would result in a top 10% finish among Athenas, so my goal was to break an hour since I haven't been running much. My last 10k was 50:04 in February but that was because I was doing a lot of speedwork and in full IM AZ training mode-- not a reasonable goal for my recent activity. Besides, ConocoPhillips is pretty flat with only 2 hills while T-Day had one steep short hill and three bridges to cross. How can a race cross the Ohio three times and still end up on the Ohio side of the river? MAGIC!

The race was at 9 on Thursday morning, and race day registration (what? haven't seen this recently since tri's sell out and long road races don't offer it), the post party, restrooms, etc was in Paul Brown Stadium, where the Bengals play. This totally rocked because you could warm up/relieve yourself in the comfort of a warm toilet-filled restroom rather than a cold dirty port-a-let. I got there early (free parking too!), goofed off for awhile, and then headed to the start line. I was about 5 feet behind the 9:00/mile sign, thinking that 9:30 or so wasn't out of my range. After standing there for 20 minutes the race started right on time. My first mile felt awful since my feet had gone numb in the shadows of the other folks waiting at the start line. I also got really hot and removed my gloves, headband thingy, and rolled up my long sleeves within five minutes. I don't run in much more than a cotton tee and running shorts til it gets below 40, but I was afraid I'd become a cold runner wuss. I hadn't. Anyway, my first mile was a painful 9:45, so I decided I was just going to have a nice comfy slow run the rest of the way. Then my mile splits got awesomer: 9:00, 9:24, 9:24, 8:58, and 8:30. I finished up in a respectable 56:37 (and with a nice negative split), 175th of 750ish 25-29 year olds. And in the Athenas? I'll never know. I thought it was weird I didn't get to weigh in when I picked up my packet, but I expected to still have an Athena division considering there were 12,000 competitors out there (and the guy I started with had registered as a Clydesdale). I was wrong. The results came up with me in my age group and the awards list contained no weight divisions. I think there's a valuable lesson to learn there: lose weight.

After I finished I headed to the post race party. I finally took off my hot wind pants (which I had over my tights), tied off the ankles, and got in the feast line. First I got an ice cream cone, a bottle of water--then I got to work collecting sunflower seeds, apple dippers (McD's was a sponsor) cookies, string cheese, granola bars, and orange juice. There were also bagels, but I really don't care much for them (especially because I'd had one for breakfast). I left with carrying my booty-stuffed pants and feeling good about my run.

So if you're ever in Cincinnati on Thanksgiving, well, I'm sorry about your luck. But if you can dig yourself out of your dismay for being here, head out to the Thanksgiving Day Race. It's cheap (you don't HAVE to get a shirt, which is a relief to anyone with 183,307 race t-shirts), fun, accessible, and has a killer buffet of food afterward. Hard to beat that with a stick.

Now I'm gonna go hit Donatos like it's going out of style-- which you could argue it is since I can't find the stuff anywhere but the 'Nati. :)

D4: My PR

2006-11-10T11:57:00.000-06:00

They say ("they" being tri bloggers. "They" know everything) that there are 4 elements of triathlon: swimming, biking, running, and taking good race pictures.

I have not mastered the elusive 4th discipline.

No matter how great I'm feeling, how fresh my stride, how aero I go my pictures suck. I look like a lazy, fat power walker on training wheels. Oh! And while you're at it, throw in some water wings. It's ridiculous how horrible I usually look. Remember my IM AZ finish pic? I looked high as a kite (and no, I wasn't). I'm as anti-tri photogenic as you get.

Ironstar, however, was a different story. Despite my not training and not going fast I looked like a real athlete. Here, see for yourself:
(They're links because I don't know how to make the photographer's online pictures show up in my blog... I'm pitiful at this "technology" stuff.)

Emerging from the water

Up close & personal-- note the Athena double chin

Aero baby!

T2-- I swear I'm running. Kinda.

Best running shot ever-- note that both my feet are off the ground :)

Finishing hard

Finish

Priorities: 1) finish, 2) dick around with watch stoppage

The other day the links were different, so these may not work for long. In which case, uh, tough nuggets. :) Enjoy!

Wetsuits are for wusses

2006-11-01T23:42:00.000-06:00

Ironstar 2004. My first triathlon. I arrived too late to drive the course the night before, which horrified the soon-to-turn-pro Matt McCurdy, my dinner mate at the pasta dinner. It also horrified him I was riding a $600 bike I’d owned all of 10 days with aero bars that had been installed the night before. Indeed, I was a little horrifying. It’s how I roll, SON!

After dinner I headed up to my hotel room, organized my things and checked out my first race packet. I read through all that stuff I now throw away, intrigued by the newness of it all. As I was getting ready for the race I realized I’d forgotten socks; despite the fact there was a Wal-Mart 2 miles away, I opted to race without socks. No biggie.

That night I had trouble pulling myself away from the television because the Red Sox were playing the Yankees (back when I hated the Yankees and didn’t hate the Red Sox. Times have changed). I’m pretty sure that was the night that Curt Schilling played superhero with his bloody sock. Still, I turned off the game in the 7th or so inning and slept like a rock, as always. Baseball will go on whether I’m watching or not, but my sleep will not.

The next day I woke up, got my gear together, and stood nervously on the beach during the National Anthem. I spoke to some women standing around about how to approach the open water swim. They squealed with delight at my newbie-ness and offered me good advice about getting out in front early if I was a strong swimmer. They both passed me on the bike, but I was king of the world in that lake.

The race went really, really well. I was 3rd out of the water in my heat; unfortunately, 1 and 2 were also in my 20-24 age group, and I never caught those ladies. My transitions were slow, but I didn’t know that yet. On my bike, I tried to get down in aero and ran myself off the road into a ditch, but still managed to come back to pavement unscathed (sadly, I did this on a flat 2 mile stretch of road so EVERYONE whose ass I whooped in the swim could seem me. Sigh). I didn’t get in aero for months after that. Before I knew it I was on the run, rockin’ and rollin’ like a true champ. I don’t have my mile splits because I was wearing a crappy watch, but I ran the whole way. My ankles stung a bit from the rub they were getting for going sockless, but it wasn’t too bad. At mile 10 I was pumped—a 5k left! Child’s play! At that water station, two ladies I’d been back-and-forth with the entire run asked me if my feet hurt. “Why?” I replied. One pointed to my shoes, which were red with blood: my avatar was born. The sight of my feet almost made me puke instantly. After a few woozy seconds I continued on and finished in 6:32:25… not bad for my first half. I got a massage, a beer, some pizza, a mug, and a 3rd place plaque for my efforts. Go me!

Ironstar 2006. 7 weeks after Ironman Wisconsin found me in my normal post IM state: fat, happy, and living on beer and cheese (how Wisconsin appropriate). After such a crapass race I wasn’t interested in jumping on the training bandwagon except for my celeb ride with Greyhound and of course, the beerathon. But I wanted to do this race for old time’s sake, and dammit if I wasn’t going to finish.

But first I had to get there on time. After dawdling all Saturday I found myself going 85 all the way up to Conroe to make in time to get my packet before it was sold to the bloodthirsty hordes of people who didn’t register in time. I made it by 15 minutes. This year I skipped the pasta dinner so I could catch a meal with my two tri friends K and T, the girlfriend of T, and the parents of K. We had a great—though slow—Italian meal and trip to Wal-Mart (though I didn’t need anything) before turning in to our cabin. We talked, laughed, and got ready for the next day. This year there was no baseball to watch because my Cards took home the gold the day before (how thoughtful of them!). At 10 (9 PM after the fall backing) K and I turned in.

The next morning we woke up to air temps in the mid-40s and a water temp of 70. I’d been unsure about whether I should wear a wetsuit the night before… um, the next morning I wasn’t! I packed my sweet T1 bag from DeSoto—including wetsuit—and ate my breakfast of a Snickers Marathon bar, banana, and 8 oz greatorade before heading to transition.

The morning quickly warmed. After getting body marked (“I swear it looks pretty” said the body marker chick after putting an A on the back of my calf. Um, okay… do I look like the type of ho who would be annoyed if it was ugly?) and setting up transition, I stood around on the beach with K and her mom waiting for our heats to come up (she was at 7:20 and I was pulling up the large rear at 7:25). I decided that I should at least wade in the water before swim and hopped in the water up to my thighs. The water was downright pleasant! I went back and forth about taking off my neoprene beauty b/c I was afraid the water in the open lake—as opposed to the cove in which we start—would be significantly chillier. About 7 minutes before my wave I finally unzipped it and wiggled out to meet the swim with bare arms and legs. It was a good move.

I started in the front row of girls for my wave, a good positioning judging by the number of silver caps by me as I finished. Next to me was a girl in just a swimsuit who’d written my post title “Wetsuits are for WUSSES” on her cap… to be honest I happened to agree—the water was 70, and after a minute or so it felt really nice. Of course, that minute was a little shocking since I hadn’t warmed up, but still.

Before I knew it we were off. Though normally I would have gone out a little fast to get warmed up and away from the flailing dumbasses around me, I took it easy the entire swim. Within 7 minutes I’d come up on girls from the heat in front of me-- pretty cool. I felt wonderful in the water…smooth, long, efficient. I had to keep reminding myself I was doing this for fun and wasn’t going to blow my load in the first half hour of this ditty so I didn’t speed up. The swim was mostly uneventful despite my ending up in the middle of the bleeping course due to the sun and my difficulty sighting with freaking buoys the size of my freaking head. But I’m not bitter or anything. I cruised out of the water next to the girl I started beside at 33:07. Not my best, and way slower than the 30:34 from ’04. Oh well.

T1 was AWESOME (for me): 2:10, way faster than the 3:00 from ’04. The only thing I’ll mention here is that the Clydesdales/Athenas were on the last rack, which meant they had to run the farthest with their bikes. Does anyone else find this really funny? I did.

The bike was better than I expected. I felt strong and avoided the coasting I normally do on downhills (“What would Greyhound do?”). Nothing really out of the ordinary here except I actually PASSED people. I also was passed, but that’s no surprise; however, I did get passed by a dweeb in an aero helmet about 40 mins in. First of all, dude passed me on a downhill, then quit pedaling so I had to brake to avoid his draft zone. Turd! Not only did he get a 20 min head start on me, it took him another 40 minutes to get by me on the bike with an aero helmet. I swore to loathe this guy the entire race which worked out for me: I passed him 4 times, and he only caught up 3. I blew him off the road on the run. The lesson? If you’re going to pass me, you’d better do it right the first time. I came in at 3:32:41 (16.6 mph pace), not far off the 3:26:27 I posted in my first tri. Sometimes I want to punch 2004 Mishele in the stomach.

T2: 2:11. Smokin! 04’s time? A wussy 3:55.

The run was long, slow, and hot. People quickly trotted past me out of T2, but by the end I caught most of them. My secret? Never stop running, even if some folks are walking faster than my “run.” I only stopped to walk half of the only real hill on the course and each water station. I felt bad, but I was really enjoying the race… I think that might make me creepy. Anyway, I must’ve done something right because check out my last 6 mile splits:
12:30 (hey, I walked to chat with a friend)
11:31
11:26
11:13
10:57
10:20
How cool is that?! I finished the run in 2:30:01 (11:28 pace :-/)a mere 90 seconds from the 2004 posting of 2:28:31. My total time was 6:40:08 compared to the 6:32:25 from my first tri. Considering my training, my pacing, and my initial attitude I did really well. This might be the race I’m most proud of this year behind IM AZ. Sure, it’s kinda slow and I’d expect to have improved in two years instead of slowing down, but I had fun, paced well, nailed my nutrition, and came in 2nd in the Athena division. Yowsa! I was also sore but not handicapped the next day; today I feel like I could do another HIM. Basically it’s the best recovery ever.

And finally, my favorite: the injury report. I’m sunburnt, have 2 chafed underarms, and NO blisters. Not one. The funny thing about this is I brought my new running shoes with me to the race thinking I’d already run in them. I hadn’t. Apparently Mizuno Wave Riders are so awesome they don’t even need breaking in.

Mishele K, welcome to your REAL off season.

D Race comin up this weekend!

2006-10-25T11:55:00.001-05:00

Eek! I've been gone too long. Sorry 'bout that. Now to play catchup.

In my last post I mentioned that I was going to ride the Ironstar course and decide from the experience if I should "participate" in the race, which is this weekend. Well, 2 Saturdays ago I met up with Greyhound to take a ride for what I thought would be law school + tri chats and 59 smooth miles under overcast, cool skies. What I didn't know is the harmless looking Greyhound was trying to kill me.

We started out fine, not really pushing my pace (because we all know he's considerably faster than me). He casually mentioned adding a few miles to the route that would include the most monstrous hills that the area could boast, and I agreed. After all, I am an Ironman, even if an out of shape one. Post-superhills I was still feeling quite smug, so the next route change Greyhound suggested I also agreed to. Then he suggested another. I let my ego and fear of looking like a wuss take the reigns most of the ride, but I didn't feel unusually crappy til we were about 9 miles from home; at that point, I decided that my large chainring would take a union break the rest of the ride, and I spun like a grandma. After a pretty nice 70 mile ride, we turned back into the resort-- Greyhound had failed to kill me on the bike. I win!

But he didn't stop there. Oh no! As I clipped out of my left pedal when I neared my car, I leaned right... and crashed. Not only did I hurt my arm in such a way that I thought I may have broken it (lamest accident ever), but I'd fallen most ungraciously. Let me tell you, there's nothing like looking like an a-hole in front of someone you don't know very well. Still, I had survived what was certainly the result of a certain person putting a certain something in my Gatorade. But I’m not one to point fingers.

After the ride and my klutzy crash we went for a nice baby run; it was starting to get hot, so I was pretty stoked to be finished. We stretched, had a non-brew brew, and continued on with our Saturdays. Despite my arm throbbing, I was still alive and it was a beautiful day. But while on the highway on the ride home, traffic came to a dead stop. I stopped with it with no problem, but as I looked into my rearview mirror I saw some idiot in a Cherokee with her head FACING her daughter. On the highway. In traffic. Going around 40 mph and not far from my non-moving bumper. I’d had enough sense to have stayed in gear, so scooted up and veered out of her way just as she realized the sluttiness of her ways. She missed my car by inches-- and once again an agent of evil for Greyhound failed to snuff me out. I am not to be trifled with.

The rest of my Saturday was pretty fun, so I'll continue sharing. I went home, napped n stuff, then my boyfriend and I had folks over for a pseudo-family friendly Halloween party. The 5 of us made Halloween hats,

carved pumpkins,

and dipped some totally sweet caramel apples. We also watched The Grudge (um, could I have a side of plot with my scary movie PLEASE? I don't think it's asking too much) and downed some Skyline dip (if you don’t know what it is you obviously didn’t have the artery-congesting pleasure of growing up in the ‘Nati. Go Bengals!), beer, and mimosas. It was once again a nearly perfect Saturday.

Sunday I woke up stiff, but not sore. I signed up for Ironstar, but as an Athena (I know, I know... I'm barely there but dammit, there's a weight limit for a reason) and immediately regretted the decision. I vowed to train smart the next two weeks.

One week and three days later I’ve swum exactly once. Crap! In my defense, I was out of town all this past weekend hittin the ‘Lou (Go Cards!) and a wedding. Oh! And work is really busy. And I spent most of the past two weeks holding my breath over my LSAT and the rest of the time scrambling to get my applications ready for the early decision deadline on November 1st. Those are good excuses, right? Besides, this race is my kick in the ass to get training for the off season. Six weeks of sloth is enough, even for an over-consumer such as myself.

I’m off! Perhaps to continue blog updates, finish my personal statement, or keep a lookout for the sly Greyhound...

Help a brother out

2006-10-12T17:25:00.000-05:00

I’m in a pickle.

17 days from now there’s a race in which I’ve planned to compete all season: the Ironstar half iron. Ironstar was my very first triathlon two years ago, and the bike course is sorta my home course after all the hours I laid on it this summer while training for Wisconsin. Add to this that “all my friends” (except for greyhound of course) will be racing up there two Sundays from now (AND I need to get in an October race for my Snickers Marathon sponsorship) and I find myself seriously pressured to hop on that bandwagon and race my little heart out. I should sign up, right?

I think so. My boyfriend disagrees, saying it’s “dangerous.” I don’t know why... he is a thenthitive boy after all, and everyone knows thenthitive boys tend to be (over)protective. I’m sure his concern is based in emotional overreaction and not the fact that until Monday’s beerathon I hadn’t run since that pesky 26.2 in Madison. And of course he’s not taking into account that my bike hasn’t even been cleaned from the ravaging it suffered a month ago (though I did ride it once... for 7 miles). Yes, my hunney-punkin is just being silly. Normally I’d just ignore him, but this week I’ve had a revelation that makes me think he may have more sense than me.

I went home last weekend to bring all my junk to Texas (it’s been in storage for the past two years), and the reunion with my stuff got me reflecting on, you know, my life. I noticed that the common denominator in a LOT of my decisions in life--from doing well in high school so I could get the hell outta Dodge to doing 3 marathons without training--has been defiance. I only seem motivated by proving others wrong. That’s how I ended up at Ironstar the first time: some lame-ass friend told me I couldn’t prepare for the HIM distance in 6 weeks. Clearly this boy is dumb, and I had the time of my life and my fastest bike split to date despite doing some sprints this year (sigh... I’m slow). Moving on-- The point is, I’m stubborn and maybe I shouldn’t be.

The realization that I sorta only do stuff to prove others wrong is making me doubt myself. I really really wanna do the race--I don’t even want to go fast. I just want to participate. Of course, there’s the remote possibility that maybe my boyfriend is right. As if to echo his words, I was a teensy weensy bit sore on Wed after a 3ish mile jaunt on Tuesday (Of course, if you’d dared me I could have pulled another 10ish from my hiney, especially if there was anything over $1 on the line). SO, in an attempt to be a rational, safe adult I am riding the Ironstar course on Saturday at a modest pace. If I feel okay I’m signing up for the race (and I’m racing as an Athena to minimize my “24 in the 25-29 age group” bitterness. Oh, and if there was any Athena doubt on the scale a month ago, there isn’t now). If not, I’m going to get off my fat ass and get to work on my running/off season training.

Any words of wisdom from the crowd?

P.S. Yes, I participated in a beerathon on Monday night. One beer to chug, one mile run, one chug, one mile, one chug. There’s no official award, but the crowd tells me I was the best chugger there. Now if I can get that silly “run” part of the race under my belt I shall rule the beerathon world in 2007! Still, my mile splits were 7:50 and ~8:20... not embarrassing.

P.P.S. Who puts on such a wonderful event? Oh, only the coolest tri club in the country. Eat your heart out distant triers!

Hair-brained idea

2006-10-02T10:47:00.000-05:00

I got a hair cut last week. Now I’m writing about it. “Lame!” you’re probably yelling. Indeed, it is a lame blog post. Of course, if you don’t like it you’re welcome to leave my virtual dump spot in the woods of the internet. Shyeah.

Anyway, I went to get my rat’s nest chopped because I’ve had it with my gross hair. After complaining for months I finally broke down and shelled out some dough to go to my friend’s hair dresser at some snooty salon because said friend told me this girl was good; citysearch confirmed this. Normally that wouldn’t have been enough, but this salon also served wine, and I’m not one to resist positive hair transformation + an alcoholic beverage. 30 minutes before my appointment I hopped in my truck, arrived at the salon, and I took pictures for my “before” shot. Sure, I could have asked someone at work or asked my new best friend the hair dresser to take them for me but I would have felt silly (incidentally, I also felt silly for taking pictures of myself in the parking lot).

After documenting my vanity on film I headed in, put on the shirt/smock they gave me, and got my hair washed. So far so good. Next I got in the chair, ready to get my hair hacked off. The conversation with the dresser--let’s call her Gertrude from now on--didn’t go as expected.

Gertrude [lifting my hair about 3” higher around my face]: Is this what you were looking for?
(Keep in my I asked to “cut it all off,” which to me means, well, cut all my hair off.)
Me: Um, shorter.
Gertrude [frowns]: How tall are you?
Me: Um, 5-8.
G [with a tsssk noise of uncertainty]: You see, with your height and your long neck I wouldn’t cut your hair any shorter. Otherwise, your head might look too small in proportion to your body.

Let’s pause. The bitch basically told me I’d have a pinhead if I didn’t keep my hair longer than chin length. What she should have said was “Oh, with your graceful neck and lovely face you’ll look 15 pounds lighter than you do now. Really, you are quite model-esque. I simply must see if you can be in our salon ads.” But she didn’t because Gertrude is a bitch. I’ll continue.

Me [obviously offended and rightfully so]: Well I’ve had it short before and no one’s ever told me my head looked too small. I, um, look good with short hair.
(“Good” might be an exaggeration but I’m pretty freaking sure I don’t look pinhead-y)
G: Oh, I just want to be sure I know what you want since it will be so drastic of a cut. [big fake smile]

Man, what a ho. So she cuts my hair, which is still a smidge (sp? I so do not know how to spell smidge) longer than I want it, but it looks good once she’s finished. I’m happy, and I somehow don’t notice that I failed to see how she styled it (since she blew my contact out of my eye but continued drying/styling my hair anyway... we both finished our activities at about the same time) nor what product she used. It’s possible I would’ve remembered to ask if the hair washer and the hair-sweeper-upper weren’t commenting on how much younger and better I looked (the hair sweeper upper remarked in Spanish to Gerty, not to me--which makes me think her comment was more truthful). As if I walked in there looking like an old hag or something! Honestly, how does a 24 year old girl look OLD?? I still don’t know if I should be offended at their “before” comments or pleased with their “after” ones.

While Miss Gertrude is chopping my frizz ‘fro off, she commented ~4 times about how I needed some “paint on my face.” After my cut she led me to the makeup girl so she could “make me look really pretty.” By this point I’m more than a little peeved because I’m pay $8 million to endure comments that are genuinely tearing down my self esteem. What hell kinda salon is this? Anyway, makeup girl basically just throws some blush, lip gloss, and mascara on me and I pay, leave a tip I begrudge, and leave. But despite the experience, I look pretty and am relieved to look different. Oh, I again take pictures, but this time I take them in the mirror of my apt despite the fact that Craig was home and could much more easily have done it.

So here’s my 43 year old before:

And my 24 year old after (remember it’s a mirror image in our warm bathroom lighting):

The haircut isn’t 100% what I wanted, and the next day I made the mistake of “fixing” it myself. It therefore looks worse now than it did then. I’m awesome. But more importantly, having not-disgusting hair has been a true wake-up call for me. I pride myself on being very natural, having no fashion sense, and saving my money to splurge on $200 SIDI T1 cycling shoes, not a hot pair of pumps. I like being plain because the others’ expectations are so low, but I still have the potential to doll up, making the effect much more dramatic. That said, I realize that I’ve taken it to too great of an extreme and it seems like I don’t take pride in how I look. A mistake! So I started wearing some makeup some days and--next month when I again have money--will buy clothes that are a little newer and more flattering than the shirt I have on today, which I purchased when I was 19. Mishele K, it just might be time to grow up... and let your hair grow out so you don’t look like a pinhead.