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?
Showing posts with label good spit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label good spit. Show all posts
Friday, April 18, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Moving to Chicago
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!
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!
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Whatcha doin tomorrow?
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?
Friday, March 07, 2008
The very next day...
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. :)
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. :)
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Wonderland
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!
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Sunshine and butterflies
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?
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?
Friday, November 09, 2007
Don't believe me if I say I'm 27
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. :)
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. :)
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Guess who passed the patent bar today?
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*
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*
Monday, September 10, 2007
Okay so maybe Wisconsin doesn't suck
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!
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!
Monday, August 13, 2007
You're it
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)
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)
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Small joys
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.
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.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Race Review: River Cities Tri
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!
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
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.
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.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Put your hands where I can see them—hanging on the wrong side of the law
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Du it, man: Webster Duathlon #3 Race Review
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Would you trade it?
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Um, best compliment ever
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.)
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.)
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Wisconsin-bound
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.
You kids are gonna make me proud. And stinky. Try not to sweat on me.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Well what the heck am I supposed to do now?
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... :(
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
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!
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!
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