Haley's Tri Blog

chirp chirp chirp

2011-01-28T11:58:00.000-08:00

That's the sound of crickets. Because there can't possibly still be someone out there who checks this blog for updates. Last April I started putting off my blog updates until tomorrow. Eventually, enough tomorrows stacked up and we arrived at today. A fantastic metaphor for life in general. So now, in complete defiance of the tradition that occurs on the first of the month, I am making a January 27 resolution to blog more often. Really, it shouldn't be too hard to improve on my current blogging rate.

I could give the classic excuse for my absence in blogland (I have been busy - it's true), but really I am daunted by the the prospect of summarizing the entire 2010 race season. Also, I get frustrated by any attempts to move photographs around and edit my content on blogger. It keeps me from wanting to post any pictures at all, thereby preventing any desire I might have to blog in general. Perhaps I'm untalented when it comes to technology and blog editing. The truth is that I would rather play outside than do just about anything that involves sitting in front of a screen. So I am remedying that by posting a ton of pictures in random order, explaining them as I see fit, and I will thereby hopefully get anyone left out there caught up to date. Once we're all on the same page, I'll really start throwing down blog style. Heeeeeeere we go:

This is a scene from my first major triathlon of the year - the SuperFrog in San Diego. A 1/2 IM with a cold, surfy ocean swim that nearly convinced me to quit as I attempted to swim past the breakers of a particularly brutal set on my 2nd lap. Picture taken with Shelby's blackberry. Photo quality admittedly poor.

The Superfrog bike went relatively well. Especially considering that my bike was the only discipline that I had not worked on over winter. Windy, flat and fast

Okay. I guess we're at the IM Coeur d'Alene finish line now. That's my smartass finishing shot. I was happy with my new run PR but unhappy to have finished 4th for the 2nd year in a row.

Rewinding the season back to Wildflower. Charisa sent me this hilarious shot of the two of us looking particularly uncool during the swim warm up.

She also sent me this picture of me running. I wasn't feeling particularly spunky at this point, but gosh darn it, I love that race!

This was my crew for the 18 hour roadtrip to Lake San Antonio. It used to take under 17 hours when I drove with the boys, but the gossip was better this time around and we didn't get as many speeding tickets in Oregon. Ahem.

Roadtripping. I'm not sure whose sunglasses those are and why they're on my face, but we both agreed that the unshaded shot was much less flattering. Oh, I finished 6th (again) at Wildflower. The good news is that I die at a later point in the run every year that I do that race. At the current rate, I should make it to mile 12 before I bonk this year. At that point, I should be able to roll down Lynch Hill and across the finish line.

Perhaps my favorite picture of the season. That's my darling sister Cass who wasn't afraid to hug my sweaty arse after IM Cd'A. After the race she joined the Bozeman tri club. Woohoo.

That is me getting sweaty. The look in my eyes is one of terror as Kelly was hunting me down.

After a cold, wet spring, it turned into a lovely summer for riding in the Palouse

My favorite time of day for light on my favorite road for riding

My front yard garden thrived and I only had 6 tomato plants, 3 pepper plants, and 3 basil plants stolen. Yes, somebody plucked my plants from the earth and took them away. Next year I will plant more beets and brussels sprouts. Nobody seemed interested in stealing those. That's Floyd amongst the foliage.

The backyard lilies got really tall

I was invited to an amazing race in the Philippines, the Cobra Ironman 70.3. It was the experience of a lifetime and I had the good fortune of hanging out with some uber talented and comparably fun triathletes. Unfortunately, I was a bit too lax when consuming the delicious mango smoothies and salad. A debilitating fever sabotaged my attempts at racing, and my subsequent GI distress sabotaged several weeks of training after I returned home. The trip was a highlight but its aftermath was a lowlight.

An adorable entrant rolling into the finishing shoot at the Ironkids race in the Philippines. I love the google/glasses combo.

The following pictures take place in Southern Bavaria. Aaron and I traveled to Immenstadt for the ITU Long Course World Championships last July. My race went very poorly (flat tire, fallen seat post, and jet lag induced funk), but I somehow ended up in the top 10 (8th overall, 1st American). The bike course was the hardest, most beautiful ride I have ever done in my life. It was probably made harder by the fact that I did not realize my front tire was flat until the final 10 km descent. I just wondered why I was completely unable to control my bike on the insanely technical course.

I wish I had taken photos of Immenstadt and Oberstaufen, where we stayed. They were quintessential Bavarian villages. Sadly, it rained (hard) every day we were there, with the exception of race weekend. The day after the race, determined to hike in the Alps, ended up on this foggy, rain-soaked ridge line.

Aaron attempting a slightly more technical route than we expected to take on in our running shoes.

Ridge line take 2

Cinderella castle

The gondola that transported us into the cold, rainy Alps, where pleasant, hardy European trekkers abounded. I loved that I didn't see a single child whining about the weather

When the sun briefly emerged, I couldn't shake the chorus of the Von Trapp family. Aaron has video of my rendition of How do You Solve a Problem Like Maria. I am not going to post a link.

Back in the Philippines. This is the bike turnaround spot

A pair of fairly successful triathletes at our welcome ceremony on the tarmac in Camarines Sur, Philippines. It was my 30th birthday that day (yup) and it was quite the celebration

A great parting shot. Phaedra's dad took this photo at a spontaneous summer barbecue. I love my friends and I love that my husband is cradling a garden gnome.

Olympics, Swifts, Wildflower, Biking, and Spring Break

2010-04-07T20:53:00.000-07:00

Perhaps one of my my literal blogpost titles ever. Again, it's been too long, and too many things have happened to fully report on, but I'll start with this. In February, Aaron and I went to watch the Olympics in Whistler. And it was rad. We were lucky enough to be able to sub-let an apartment that some of Aaron's friends from biathlon had secured years in advance, and the entire experience proved to be worth the hassle (ie the four hours spent waiting in lines for the buses transporting spectators from the venues to the village). We were also lucky to experience gorgeous blue skies every day we were there. The rain and sleet happened before and after.

I wish I had more photos of the friends and strangers we played with all week, but I have to say that I really felt like we were in the coolest place in the world. This was the view from our apartment window. Earplugs were in order every night, but we didn't have to wander far to partake in spontaneous dance parties, drink beer, and engage in hockey smack talk. We got out of there before the US actually lost to Canada, in the final, and I am glad for that. Hockey is one of the few things that turns Canadians into jerks.

This was the view of my xc skiing heroes during the men's pursuit. Marcus Hellner, Lukas Bauer, and Axel Teichman all in the same frame.

Then it was time to focus on my own athletics again, and with full-on gold medal envy, I begrudgingly participated in the national cross country championships which were taking place 400 meters away from my work. So I went to work, took a lunch break and "competed" in a national championship 8km cross country race and returned to work an hour later. Not a bad gig.

My awesome Spokane Swift teammates were out in full force, and we actually managed to win the team title. My team rocks.

In the end, I finished 34th, which put me (barely) in the top half of the field of 76. And I only ran 1 minute per mile slower than this chick! In my defense, she has an Olympic 10km medal to her credit. And some really little shorts.

Next up was my favorite early season running race, the Snake River Canyon 1/2 marathon. The race actually grew to nearly 800 participants this year, which is phenomenal for an event that takes place in the middle of nowhere. As per usual, the wind was a force to be reckoned with, but luckily, we had the tailwind on the way home this year. You never really know how the Canyon will toss you around in this event. Otherwise, it was a beautiful day and I ran a 1:21:05 and won my 3rd straight Snake River title, missing the course record (and a bonus) by 30 seconds. I don't know that my mini-string of Snake River titles will last for long though. Swift teammate Jodi Suter crossed the finish line only 12 seconds later and she then proceeded to stomp me in the St. Paddys five mile road race the next weekend. At least she's cool enough to know when a picture is supposed to be goofy. I don't know what the four Swifts on the right are doing with their chipper smiles.

The next weekend I flew south to San Diego for a spring break, a spell of warm weather training and the opportunity to train on the Wildflower course for a weekend. The mini-camp was spearheaded by Lifesport teammate Magali, and despite some frustrating travel-related delays, and some well-deserved exhaustion induced by staying up WAY too late chatting, we had a blast. I personally had a couple of rough training days, but Magali isn't only superfast, she is super fun, and being at Lake San Antonio in March is spectacularly beautiful. The wildflowers, wildlife, and greenery were spellbinding.

The view of the top of "Heartrate Hill," which is seriously overrated when compared to the difficulty of the run course.

Sexy vineyards

Magali and I might need some minders the next time we train together. It turns out that neither of us is a super-organized get up early and get 'er done type triathlete. So our training sessions ended just before sunset. It might have been a little chaotic, but it sure was pretty to see the late evening sun by the lake when we finished our bike rides.

And resplendent turkeys defining the expression "strutting around." We also saw vultures (Magali's good omen bird), chipmunks, ground squirrels, deer, and a hawk carrying an ill-fated one of those aforementioned ground squirrels.

Our training extravaganza culminated in Magali's unshowered, frantic packing job in the Day's Inn parking lot. She made her flight in the end, but I don't envy the person who had to sit next to her.

Then it was my turn to drive back down to San Diego for a week of playing with my bike and with Shelby, Aaron and Lily. My first bicycling date was a reunion with Bill Holland and Jason "CareBear" Lilly that included a spectacular ride up Kitchen Creek, complete with some UFO looking lenticular clouds.

More funky clouds over the Borrego Desert.

I also got the chance to ride with Brian Maiorano, who kicked my butt on one loop of the Great Western, only to leave me nice and exhausted for loop number 2, which I had to do solo. I love my San Diego friends. But mostly I love these people (and Aaron).

I wish spring break lasted a month!

At some point I'll get around to reporting on my first triathlon of the season, the SuperFrog on Coronado Island.

48 hours in San Diego

2010-01-28T20:16:00.000-08:00

Forty-six and a half hours, to be precise. I had intended to escape to sunny San Diego for at least 60 hours, but in life and racing, things rarely go according to plan. My original plan was to head straight from the cadaver lab to the airport on Friday, but with California's weather being what it is . . . you know, those classic southern Californian squalls . . . my flight didn't manage to leave on Friday. And that meant that I had to set my alarm clock on Saturday for a gawdawful hour that is the reason I don't do 4:30 am masters practices at the Valley YMCA. Because it's just wrong.

Luckily, I made it to San Diego after a protracted layover in Denver that was a perfect opportunity to study for my anatomy exam on Tuesday. It was also the perfect opportunity to let my stomach settle, as it has apparently decided to start getting violently ill every time I fly. How convenient.

San Diego was just as it should be. Sunny. In fact, it was even better than it should be because the recent rain has made everything green and crisp. A tantalizing glimpse of springtime in January. Considering that I had so few hours to spend in California, I think I made good use of my time. I ate a taco and some sushi, I saw my first ever episode of The Secret Life of an American Teenager (which was awful, sorry Shelby), I won the Carlsbad Marathon, I had a Jamba Juice, I witnessed (but didn't get to play in) some wicked surf, I watched for whales at the Cabrillo monument, I experienced Avatar in 3D, I cooked a scrumptious pot of ribollita, and best of all, I got to hang out with Shelby, my -ator. Hehe.

So before I go on flattering Shelby too much, I should mention that the marathon was the real reason that I traveled all that way for a measly 46.5 hours. Though Shelby's living in the area may have contributed significantly to my having chosen that marathon in the first place . . .

It was a good choice! The weather was perfect. Cool and clear. It was especially cool at 6 am when the starting gun sounded. I was a little miffed to have to start running a marathon at an hour when I am rarely awake, but I'm proud of not having gone back to bed when my alarm went off at 4 am. That's not to say I didn't consider it. My preparation for the event was okay. Originally, I had big dreams, but life and some minor niggles intervened, so I just planned to go enjoy the day and take what it gave me.

The day gave me a lot to be happy with. First of all, it gave me a spectacular sunrise about 4 miles into the race. It was in that early morning light that I noticed how incredibly glassy the surf was. The waves were PERFECT and I couldn't understand why there weren't hoards of surfers out playing. After a short stint rolling along the coast, the marathon headed inland and uphill. In fact, miles 4-9 were all uphill, with the steepest portions being between miles 7-9. It was still early enough in the race that everything felt easy, but I think the subsequent 4 mile downhill took a toll on my quads that I didn't really feel until mile 24.

As a triathlete, my typical marathon m.o. (within the context of an Ironman) is to be ultra conservative, and I adhered to that for the first half of the race. I got dropped by the lead female at the start of the climb and I just let her go, figuring she was either a lot better than me or that I would catch up to her later. My Forerunner 310XT let me monitor my HR and pace and keep it perfectly sustainable. I got a little scared about halfway through the race, as I began to feel the stress of the downhill, but thankfully they were serving GU on course. A Vanilla GU always puts me right. By mile 14 I was ready to roll. At this point we were back along the coast, the sun was out, and the road was straight and rolling. I felt fantastic and could see the leader in the distance, so I decided to go get her. I kept reminding myself that there was still a long way to go, but my legs were feeling frisky and I obliged them. I caught the leader just before the 20 mile marker and felt pretty confident that the win was mine at that point. I had no reason to believe that I would bonk and I doubted that anyone else behind would start running sub-6 minute miles to catch me.

So I let myself relax and enjoy running. It wasn't hard to do, with the beautiful surf, the perfect weather, and the awesome crowds. At mile 24, the inevitable muscular fatigue settled in, but it wasn't insurmountable, just a tad uncomfortable. It didn't help that my GPS said that the race was 26.45 miles long, which probably accounts for my having taken the anti-tangent of every curve. Classic Cooper strategery. Truthfully, I wouldn't have complained if the race were 0.25 miles shorter!

And that was that. Winning is always more fun than not winning, but really, I was just happy to have fun and feel comfortable running 26.45 miles. And an off-season paycheck is ALWAYS welcome. I had a disastrous 1/2 marathon a few months ago, and I had really begun to doubt my health and fitness. While this marathon wasn't smoking fast, it gives me confidence that my off-season fitness is on track. And it was fun!

Shelby and I wasted no time having more fun afterwards - a Naked Cafe breakfast in the VIP tent, whale watching, surf watching (it turns out that there weren't many surfers out because the race had blocked road access. the ones who were out were getting some fantastic rides though!), sight seeing, singing WAY too loudly along with radio, cooking, and an entirely-too-brief get-together with Peven and Dre. In all of this commotion, there were approximately 3 photos taken. Yup. One of my more action-packed weekends in a while, and I took 3 pictures. So there wasn't a lot of editing or culling. Here you go.

Shelby getting gasoline. Riveting, I know.

Still at the gas station. Despite what this looks like, I am not giving the #1 sign with my freakishly long index finger. I was actually explaining to Shelby why your nose stops smelling farts after it starts smelling them. There really is a physiological explanation for this.

And this truck just begged to be photographed. Enough said.

Everything that happened when I had a camera

2010-01-11T22:17:00.000-08:00

It's 2010 now, and that's a good thing. Practically speaking, it's really all just a continuum anyway and arbitrary human designations describe any given date. That is, of course, unless you subscribe to the theory of relativity in which timespace is not at all linear. But I digress. For my intents and purposes, a new year means a new triathlon season and I have every reason to be stoked about it all.

To begin with, I just like the sound of 2010. Twenty ten. Two thousand and ten. Two thousand and nine never really jived with me. I like this twenty ten thing much better. Secondly, I got to begin the new year with an outdoor ride, as the city of Spokane seems to have been spared the barrages of winter that crippled us for the past two years (and seem to be blanketing the rest of the country in cold and snow). Two thousand and nine presented what was for me the first unwhite Christmas in recent memory. Another good reason to be done with the blasted year. And now, a week and a half into this twentyten, I have an armchair pulled close to the fire, three adorable cats and a computer competing for prime lap space (mine), and really, life is good. Yet I can't help but wonder when this dog lover became a cat lady?

Of course, I can't complain about how 2009 panned out. I ended the season on a mildly disappointing note, with a sub-par performance at Kona tricking me into thinking that the whole season was a bust. In hindsight, however, I know that I made my typically slow, steady gains throughout the season, and I really made my season into what I wanted it to be. I raced in 3 Ironmans, 6 half Iron-distance races, and I additionally did a super-fun smattering of sprints, Olympics and Xterras. I raced in my favorite local events that I was sad to have missed in 2008, I experienced some new, top-quality events (Ironman Canada, Hulaman), I got married, I got hit by a car, and I got humbled by Madam Pele once again. Life is fun to learn.

After returning from Kona, Aaron and I decided to embark on what was meant to be the first of a year long series of honeymoons. With our vacation budget substantially reduced due to his bursitis episode (and that was with health insurance and an HSA), we decided to keep it on the continent for this go-round and when torn between Nova Scotia and Copper Canyon, Mexico, the hurricane forecast sent us North and East. To the homeland of Coach Dan. Our plan was to explore the Cape Breton Highlands and to then ferry over to Newfoundland to see what there was to see, but the distances proved vast, and we relied mostly on our own feet for exploration. So it turned into a week and a half of trail running/hiking/slogging. We covered about 15-25 miles each day, and though the pace was never fast, we experienced a lot . We especially experienced a lot of wet, as is the nature of trails in deciduous forests in late October, we learned. It sure was a pretty wet though.

Day 1: Still dry

Pretty birch trees in fall

A solitary blue heron

the first time we realized that wet feet were inevitable

. . . and cold . .

but it was worth it because it was beautiful

and occasionally there were bridges

and insanely cute sciurids

and dramatic light effects

along with short autumn days

our first taste of snow

some goofing off

trails that end in the perfect place

beautiful coastlines

waterfalls aplenty

moose blocking the trail

and my favorite wildlife find - an Eastern toad! Cool, eh?

After tooling around the Cape Breton Highlands we drove to Baxter State Park in Maine to climb Mt Kathadin, the highest point in Maine and the northern terminus of the Appalachian trail. We considered just running up it like we had everything in Nova Scotia, but ultimately decided it would be better to pack lunches and warm clothes and that turned out to be the right decision. The peaks in the West are a lot higher, but East Coast trails are decidedly harder. They don't bother with switchbacks and instead take the most direct route to the summit. I had some similar experiences hiking in Vermont, but I have to say, it was even tougher than I remember. The mountain didn't look terribly intimidating, but there was a lot of ice to contend with on the trail, and it was STUPID cold at the top.

Then we got home and decided that a new kitten would be a good thing. We lost Atilla last year and Jeremy seemed to like her well enough, so a new feline friend was in order. Unfortunately, we got to the shelter and just couldn't decide which one to take, so we got two. Meet Floyd and Leroy.

Despite our wanting to find him a friend, Jeremy was relatively unimpressed with our new additions and spent a lot of time defending his territory.

But eventually the kittens' cuteness won Jeremy over because seriously, who wouldn't want to be friends with this?

I thought it was particularly cute when Leroy started hanging out in the ficus. That was until he started crapping in it. Crapping in plants is not cute.

Conversely, children and kittens are cute. Especially when the child is a dimpled one.

Otherwise, life continues in the Cooper-Scott house. I finally feel like I'm really back in the training groove and I've even been able to eek in some skate skiing. My favorite time to go is just before sunset. It's such a peaceful way to bid farewell to the day and the sunsets and shades of gray are so much more spectacular on the mountain. Of course, they're shades of gray that my camera does a miserable job of capturing. Just trust me, it's amazing.

This sunset was so much more spectacular in real life.

The gloaming. My favorite time to ski.

Soon, I'll actually give triathlon related updates, including some exciting sponsor information, but tonight I need to get back to my anatomy textbook. I'm a little bummed that school is preventing my participation in some pre-season training camps, but ultimately it's for the best. Human anatomy and physiology are SO COOL to learn about. We're studying the brain right now and every time I swim or ski, I'm astounded and thrilled at the brain's ability to process all of the incoming sensory information to coordinate and learn new movements. It's incredible and I'm SO lucky. Yay for brains!

Ironman Hawaii 2009: Good practice

2009-10-15T17:42:00.000-07:00

I just saw this quoted on Slowtwitch:

"Rule 5.10c): Right-of-Way: [in part] a cyclist shall not crowd the other participant and shall allow reasonable space for the other participant to make normal movement without making contact. "

I just thought I'd put that up there in case any of the multitudes of shamelessly cheating male age groupers happen to read my blog (doubtful, I know). It's bad enough that a "world championship" event is illegitimized by packs of 30+ guys riding together into the wind, but they could at least have the decency to not try to run the women they're overtaking off of the road in the process. I suppose I'm used to pro rules where it is required to move 2 meters to the left before entering the 10 meter draft zone, but it is insane how close these guys come in their efforts to suck as much wind as possible. Just for the record. It is considerate to at least make sure your rear tire has cleared the front tire of the person you're passing before moving right again. And I don't want you riding so close that I get splattered by the sweat blowing off your elbows.

Yep, there was a lot of getting passed in store for me on race day. But perhaps I should start at the very beginning. A very good place to start. When you read you begin with "a-b-c." When you sing you begin with do re mi. I digress. And I respect the dorks who actually get the reference.

I showed up in Kona on September 22nd, grabbed my rental car, and headed for the Rubios place in Kailua. I stayed with the Rick and Karen for a spell in 2007, and I intended to do the same for a while this year. Little did I know that a "while" would end up being the entire 2.5 weeks I spent in Kona. Holy generosity! I settled in, went for a swim (my favorite thing to do in Kona) and called Aaron before going to bed. He started the conversation by telling me that he had a very interesting day. Apparently, while studying in a coffee shop, he knee went from looking and feeling normal to looking like this

He went to the ER, was diagnosed with a cellulitis, administered a course of IV antibiotics and sent home. The next day, sicker, and with his knee more inflamed and swollen, he returned to the ER. I, meanwhile, was beginning to tackle training in the steam room that is Kona. On the third day, Aaron was admitted to the hospital and prepped for surgery, and I rode the IM bike course. When I got back to the house that afternoon, I booked tickets back to Spokane. Attempting to fly back to Kona 1 week prior to the Ironman made for a very expensive plane ticket. But hey, he was my husband of two weeks, what else was I to do? I returned to Spokane to find this. . .

. . . and a significantly less sick spouse. I was only home for 5 days, so we had to find unvigorous activities that involved zero risk of falling on one's knee. Luckily, the honeycrisp apples had just come into season at Greenbluff, and we received a hard-core potato gun as a wedding gift (Aaron's favorite gift by far). After picking up lots of apples and squash, we stopped on a quiet dirt road to have some real hick fun.

Don't be fooled by the use of an innocent Joe Blow bike pump to power this thing. At 60 PSI a potato shot straight into the air can't even be seen. And it can be used up to 100 PSI. It put a hole in Aaron's cousin's fence and essentially atomizes any vegetable matter that it shoots into tree trunk or cement wall. Apparently, this is really fun for boys. I find it mildly entertaining. Note the rather entertaining looking squash we couldn't resist purchasing in the trunk. t

A side note; the morning before I flew back to Spokane, Rick and I got to do a really fun local tri - my first race since Canada. It was called the Mangoman, and it was a blast. Totally low key Kona local style. Naturally, I ran into Wee there, but her coach wouldn't let her do the whole race. Instead, she just obliterated the swim, and left the rest of us to bike and run up Hualalai 4 times total.

Back to Kona then. I got off the plane and squeaked in a 3 hour ride out to Kawaihai and back before dark. It may well have been the most fun ride I've ever had in Kona because I had a ridiculous tailwind on the way home. Like spinning out at 35 mph on the flats style tailwind. Yeehaw. I almost felt like I do when racing in Kona except that it was about a million times more fun.

The next day marked the beginning of the Lifesport Prep camp which made for some quality training opportunities, including getting to swim with Linsey and Wee (or watching Bree's bubbles grow ever more distant. Whatever).

As per usual, the camp was comprised of great people from disparate parts of the country and world. It was an insanely likable group of people. What fun.

Once camp ended, "race week" began. Race week is meant to be relaxing, but it tends to be anything but. I did a pretty good job of managing my obligations promptly and heading straight back to the sanctuary that was the Rubios' house, but there were still plenty of days when bedtime rolled around and I asked myself how it was possible to have been so busy. Nonetheless, I was lucky to have such a relaxing, quiet place to stay with hosts who really made me feel at home and kept me well fed, to boot.

A major perk this year was not having to worry about my bike being race-ready. The Zoot Ultra team was provided with our own super-duper bike mechanic, Chris Davidson, who not only got my Orbea perfectly tuned and road-worthy, he washed it too. Like straight off the showroom floor clean. If only Kona was my real life . . .

so pretty

But all of these meeting and camps and flights and training sessions were intended to set me up for a great race, right? Unfortunately, despite all of this, my mind and body weren't totally invested in the race. I was certainly calm and focused, but I knew where I stood fitness-wise and recovery-wise, and neither of those were very good. I was confident that I could pull off a decent Ironman, but when a Kona slot makes itself available only 6 weeks prior to the race, it can't be an "A" race. Especially when the fitness was already much diminished those 6 weeks prior and there was a wedding thrown into the mix as well.

These aren't excuses as to why I had a mediocre race, but rather my understanding of the ramifications of structuring my season the way I chose to. I was honored to be able to participate in the race, and I was ready to take the steps necessary to prevent total disaster a la 2008, but it was my "dessert" race - a reward for having put in the hard yards during a relatively long season. Time to have fun and to practice the famed Hawaii Ironman. I won't lie and deny that I wasn't hoping for some undeserved flash of athletic genius that would propel me to a PR, but I was pretty realistic regarding my chances of that.

Race morning was smooth and fun. Rick dropped me off and walked me to transition. Then it was just a matter of preparing myself and my gear as I have done so many times. It was great to bump into so many friends. In fact, it was the fist time that I saw Eve all week.

The swim was pretty wretched. I got off to a great start (how many times have I said that this season?), and actually swam with a big fast pack for a long while. I think I got bumped off the back just a bit too soon because I swam alone for a LONG while before getting caught by a group of 6 or so near the far turn buoy. I would like to think that if I had just hung on to the fast pack a little longer I might have gotten spat out with some slightly stronger swimmers, but who knows. The group that caught me wasn't actually going that slowly, they were just going all over the place. After turning back towards the pier, the guy leading the group repeatedly sighted off of the buoys on the other side of the course and was oblivious to numerous water patrol volunteers who tried to steer him straight. A couple of times I left his wake and headed for the correct buoy, but it was always a lost cause because he was just that much faster than me and we usually reconvened at the next buoy anyway. Eventually, I resigned myself to being thankful for the tow and made the most of the tiki tour of the Ironman swim course.

I have to admit to being gutted when I saw my time though.

The bike wasn't a whole lot better, but at least it was done on my terms (except when sitting up and trying not to be run off the road by the aforementioned AG cheaters). I revisited my super-conservative bike strategy from Canada and mostly enjoyed the course, oblivious to how slow I was going. Again, it was my plan to be conservative, but it was not my plan to be so conservative that I sucked. A bit harsh, sure, but even given my relative lack of cycling fitness, that bike split was ugly! Once I start swimming better I'll have a better gauge of what the other girls are doing on the bike, and I won't be tooling around in lala land like I did.

Despite being slow, the bike felt like it flew by and then it was time to run. This was going to be my trump card. After such a conservative bike, I was going to slowly motor through the girls who pushed too hard early on. But it didn't happen. Despite a rock solid stomach, perfectly executed nutrition plan, and positive spirits, it just wasn't in me. The reality of my running form became evident fairly early on, but I promised myself that I would be nice to myself (lots of self love, eh?) and enjoy the day. And I did! After the sauna that was Ali'i, I got up to the Queen K and focused on how pretty the ocean was and how easy it actually was to put one foot in front of the other, albeit slowly. I had some good conversations with fellow competitors, some real bonding moments with aid station volunteers, and smiled about as much as I ever have during an IM marathon.

Of course, pulling out and saving myself for Arizona or Florida came to mind, but I knew realistically where my physical and mental fitness stood and that this would be my last Ironman of the season. Why not make it a party? The party really got started at mile 18 when I finally resorted to drinking Coke, which, it turns out, is a miracle beverage. I hate the taste (always have), I hate its role in diabetes and tooth decay around the world, and I hate how it feels against my teeth, but it instantly made me run 1 min/mi faster. Again, these weren't very fast miles to begin with, but those 8 minutes stood for 8 minutes sooner that I would be able to celebrate my day down the finish chute on Ali'i and get a post-race massage (one of my best ever, I might add).

It was the first Ironman that I finished feeling almost normal. No dizziness or nausea, just a roaring appetite for pizza, which was promptly satiated. Satiated by 6 pieces, in fact. Then I took the world's most blissful cold shower in the outdoor showers by the pier (Tyler Stewart planned ahead and brought soap) and stopped by the Lifesport lounge for a tad. The result was this:

Not sad, not happy, but done and badly tan-lined. Those beautiful bike short lines are still with me and will likely persist for the remainder of a cold, northwestern winter. Rick and Karen's friends had made balcony reservations at the Fish Hopper, a restaurant right above the finish line, so I got to spend another few hours eating and watching competitors in their final seconds of their races, completing what was for some a life-changing accomplishment. Even if my race wasn't brilliant, knowing that I had just shared the experience with 1800 others and that we had collectively undergone just about every possible physical and emotional sensation, well, that was cool.

Thanks are, of course, in order. Thanks firstly to Rick and Karen, who not only agreed to take in a relative stranger in a pickle 2 years ago, but who treated me like family for 2.5 weeks. Their hospitality and friendship were unparalleled. Thanks also to Aaron for sacrificing me to triathlon for yet another 2 weeks and for being endlessly supportive. And to Lifesport and Coach Dan - thanks for another brilliant camp in Kona and for letting me fully recline while "on duty" in the Lifesport Lounge. And many thanks to Zoot and to Team sports for treating us so well while in Kona. The dinners, goodies, and bike mechanic were invaluable.

Now it's on to 2010. A great year it will be. I have plans and they start with getting fully recovered earlier than I have in the past so that I can commence a quality "off-season" a little sooner. Should be fun. Thanks for reading.

clarification

2009-10-05T10:32:00.000-07:00

I didn't get married and ride my bike on the same day. Apparently that was unclear to certain readers. The wedding and the bike ride were simply the only two things that I had photo evidence of doing in between blog posts. I did, however, go for a short run before the wedding. It provided clarity for vow-writing.

In other news, I'm in Kona with 5 days left until the race. The trip hasn't been without its drama, but all in all, I've been lucky to be able to spend some extra time here acclimating with some gracious friends, the Rubios. I'll pull out my camera before too long and tell some stories.

I got married and then I rode my bike

2009-09-19T21:17:00.001-07:00

Well, I officially registered for Kona as Haley Cooper-Scott. I haven't yet gotten used to identifying myself as such, but there was that one gesture. Married life is . . . really not terribly different at this point. As for the wedding, it was brilliant. In terms of planning, all I had to do was tell Dudley, the events coordinator at Gozzer Ranch, how many tables I wanted and which fixings to include at the taco bar. This is what I ended up with.

The huckleberry lemonade vodka thingies served in the plastic cowboy boots were a hit.
Brianna took care of the flower arrangements, which basically involved finding Lily a bouquet that wasn't bigger than she.

The 5 minute ceremony looked something like this . . .
. . . . but the emphasis was on fun and games

The antics in the pool were legendary, including inflatable shark wrestling, but the only pictures I have from the day are from one of Aaron's cousins. The pool still looks so placid in this photo.

And that was that. I've been dreading my wedding since the first one I remember attending, and I actually had fun. We did it on our own terms and we were lucky enough to have perfect weather, a spectacular venue, and amazing friends and family to share the day with. When Rachael told me that she overheard a woman telling her friend that her kids had just had the best day of their lives, I knew that we had accomplished our mission. I only regret not being able to spend more time with everyone.

In the meantime, Coach Dan decided that my spare time in my post-Ironman/peri-wedding phase would be consumed with . . . virtually nothing. Nothingness makes me uncomfortable, and with another Ironman looming in 3 weeks (it's not an important one or anything), I just HAD to get on my bike and go exploring. We've been having amazing warm weather during the day and cool evenings - climatic perfection. I know that as of next Tuesday, my photos will be of black lava, palm trees, tropical flowers, and sandy beaches. Kona is indeed photogenic, but I'm from Spokane, and I needed a good dose of home before heading to the islands. It's the time of year when a hundred mile ride can be fueled entirely by feral apples and plums found along roadsides. The juicy sweetness of fresh fruit makes the prospect of an energy bar completely unappealing. The only consequences of fueling in this manner are mild gut aches and supreme gustatory satisfaction.

There are old barns everywhere in the Palouse. And probably all across America for that matter. I didn't want to stop riding to take pictures, but when photo opportunities conveniently coincided with fruit stops, I had to take advantage.

The town of Rosalia functions as a water stop.

Waverly is good-for-nothing in the amenities department, but descending into the town from the south is FUN.

The fields got prettier as the sun got lower (which happens entirely too early this time of year!), but just as things got really pretty, I had to put the camera away, forgo some of my favorite pear trees, and haul home. Darkness came all too soon, but it was a special day.

Thanks for visiting.

post-race

2009-09-09T09:02:00.000-07:00

Now, which looks like the most fun?

race

2009-09-09T08:59:00.000-07:00

pre-race

2009-09-08T21:56:00.000-07:00

Oh Canada

2009-08-31T16:13:00.000-07:00

The music in Safeway continues to astound me with its terribleness. It's not even that they're playing a specific genre of music that I dislike. It's eclectic badness. That being said, I don't feel like hanging out here much longer. Well, that and the fact that indoor business establishments in hot climes tend to be over air-conditioned.

There were some good things about yesterday. Firstly, I don't think that the weather rose as high into the 90s as expected. The northerly winds brought with them a thick layer of wildfire smoke that protected us from the direct solar radiation. Also, after a bit of a rough swim start, I found some great feet to jump onto for 2/3 of the swim. Swim conditions were perfect - wetsuit legal but not too warm, and relatively flat. I PR'ed with a 1:01:12. I had a similar swim in Arizona, but in this race I started the bike leg with women who it usually takes me a while to catch. This suggests to me that I swam relatively better than I did in AZ.

More goodness came in the first 30 miles of the bike to Osooyos. They were just as fast and windless as everyone promised they would be. I was careful to soft pedal and I actually saw my heart rate dipping into the 130s for sections of the ride. It was a little mentally tough to be so conservative, but I knew that I would need to save my energy for the two mountain passes on the course. Richter was the first pass, and it actually wasn't very hard, but again, I sat up, spun, and kept the effort in check.

Then the badness began. The wind started blowing. Hard. The rollers after Richter were at least a little protected by virtue of it being hilly, but the flat section before Yellow Lake was mind-numbing. The winds were by no means Kona-esque, but they aren't supposed to be and I had been assailed with tale after tale of being blown home for the last 20 miles after Yellow Lake. If I hadn't expected to average 30 mph for the last 20 miles, pedaling hard on the downhills wouldn't have been too frustrating. However, the wind was relentless and the last 4 mile false flat back into town was downright demoralizing. I certainly didn't have the bike split I expected based on previous years' times, but it doesn't look like anybody did really. I think my split was a 5:22, but I'll have to check.

I always get a little daunted in T2. Marathon time. Just a marathon. After a 112 mile bike ride. That's all. Here we go. Surprisingly, despite the heat, winds, and smoke, I felt really good starting the run. My goal was to start at 7:40 pace and to build from there, but I got caught up in it all.

I feel so good right now . . . I should go with it. . . after all, I have a tail wind . . . and I think I'm going downhill . . .

So I ran a few miles at 7:00/mi pace before settling into a more realistic speed. Around mile 5 I caught Kat just as Janelle caught me. Janelle was hauling and I didn't try to go with her in the hope that she would fade. There are some pretty substantial hills on the course, especially towards the turn-around at Okanagan Falls and, as on the bike, I backed way off of the pace and tried to conserve energy for the final stretch.

I suspected that Sarah Gross might catch me on the run, as I didn't get a very comfortable lead on her after the bike, and the girl can run. Just after the turn she did just that and passed me with assertion. At that point, there was no going with her. It was survival mode all the way back to town and with some steep hills and headwinds, the pace slowed slowed substantially. I was nervous that the group of girls behind me would catch up as I watched my pace get slower and slower, but apparently the carnage back there was even uglier. I also got occasional snippets of information about a few girls ahead who were falling apart, and I chugged my way back into 4th after falling to 6th at one point. Apparently, I had the 3rd fastest female marathon split, which astounds me because I felt like a snail out there. It just goes to show what a hot, windy day with high stakes can do to a high caliber field of competitors. I'll take that as a learning day for Kona (yes, I'm crazy and I'm going).

In the end, it didn't feel like a very fast race, but I had one of my better executed Ironmans in terms of patience and energy conservation. It's frustrating to spend a day going so slowly, but when the last few miles of a marathon feel that bad, it suggests to me that my new laid back approach to the bike and early stages of the run is working. That being said, I have a LOT of work to do fitness-wise before Kona. I suppose I can only accomplish so much in 6 weeks and I am getting married next weekend, which means I won't be 100% dedicated to training until after the friends and family have departed. It's not an ideal build towards a world championships, but once I figure out how to get my bike and me affordably to Kona, I plan to enjoy it thoroughly. This season has been a blast so far, and I don't regret a single day spent racing or training.

Now, I have to give a shout out to my partners in crime for the past 6 days - Mark and Katya. Traveling to races and staying with other pro athletes can be a bit dicey, but I have to give these two huge thumbs up with regards to being super-interesting, fun, laid back and talented housemates. Their willingness to indulge in post-race McFlurries and nightly episodes of Da Ali G Show adds greatly to their excellency as human beings. Our shenanigans were highly photo documented, but I won't have many of those pictures at my disposal until they are e-mailed to me. Ahem.
Of course thanks are also due to my awesome support network, including those Spokanites who traveled to the race to watch: Robin, Manny, John, Jeff, Kathy, Kevin, Erica, Craig, Steve, Liz, Natalie, Suzanne and Shaun(okay, the last two are Coeur d'aleneites). Also, nice job to my comrades who raced: Mark and Katya, Martin and Vicki, Greg, John, Pete, Cheryl, Mark W., Jeff, Corey, and Sabrina (women's amateur champ, yay!). Also, thanks to Zoot and Lifesport for providing on-site assistance, and to GU for getting me through the entire race on the yummy new uncaffeinated pineapple flavored Roctane (though I admit that there was a bit of Pepsi thrown into the mix towards the end). Just wait until this stuff hits shelves folks! Special thanks to Coach Dan for listening to me prattle on about whether or not to take a Kona slot before it was even an issue. We have a lot of work to do now, Coach. Wedding first though. Thanks for reading.

New neighbors and lots of racing

2009-08-03T21:30:00.000-07:00

I’m sitting in a mostly peaceful backyard in Skaha, British Columbia with no training to do and no internet. Both are a little strange. But I’ve been excessively delinquent in the blogosphere, so I’m going to attempt to recap my last 6 races before the inevitable IM Canada race report. I worry that it will be a novelette of sorts, but I’m going to colo(u)r (I’m in Canada, after all) each race report so as the facilitate the jumping in between races of interest. The legend is as follows:

Red = Vancouver International ½ IM – July 12
Blue = Xterra Bozeman Wild Horse Creek – July 26
Green = Troika ½ Ironman – August 2
Purple = Coeur d’Alene Scenic Challenge (Olympic) – August 8
Orange = Hulaman ½ IM – August 16

I’m going to start on a tangent (is that possible?) by mentioning that a few weeks ago, when I was up before dawn getting ready for a race, I noticed two juvenile skunks playing in the backyard. They were so feisty and cute that I nearly let my oatmeal boil over while watching them. Oatmeal lovers will understand the potential for disaster here. I forgot about the skunklets until that evening, when Aaron saw them running around again and then darting under the shed – their apparent home.

I know that certain neighbors would immediately call any number of exterminators whose numbers they likely have on hand, but I really like skunks (especially little ones) and I don’t even think they smell too badly. My only experience to the contrary was the time that my mom and I accidentally captured a skunk in a Sherman trap while trying to instead catch a feral cat that had left me with numerous stitches in my lower lip. A humane society official told us that spraying the skunk with a hose would make its tail so heavy that it wouldn’t be able to raise it to spray. Let my official record state that spraying a skunk with a hose does not, in fact, incapacitate it. Instead, it makes the skunk really eager to spray. That particular skunk musk was a little intense. Nonetheless, these little guys are welcome. I certainly have no use for the underside of our shed, and I’m glad they’ve found one.

At this point it may appear as though I’ve been spending way too much time staring at the backyard and not enough time doing blog-worthy things, i.e. training and racing. Such an assertion wouldn’t be too far off. I really do spend an inordinate amount of time watering my plants and making sure every last weed is plucked from my meager veggie garden. But there has been racing aplenty and below I will attempt to summarize it in as unboring a fashion as possible.

July 12: Vancouver International ½ Ironman.

I had wanted to do this race for a while. The course gets rave reviews, there was a purse at stake, and it was to be the precursor for Lifesport pro camp in Victoria – a not-to-be-missed training extravaganza. Sure, it was only 3 weeks after IM Coeur d’Alene, but I felt lively and I seriously wanted something to break up the post-IM feeling of sloth and chubbiness. Silly, I know, but Ironmans can have that effect on a person. This person remedies those feelings by doing more races, though a psychiatrist might be a more fitting solution.

One of the nicer aspects of the Vancouver race experience was being put up by Lifesport coach Mark Shorter and his wife Cara in beautiful North Vancouver. My “roomie” was teammate Magali Tisseyre, who, it turns out, is good for a load of laughs. It also turns out that she is very good at triathlons. A swell combination indeed.

I just have to briefly explain (because it’s one of the few pictures that I actually took while away) that we accosted and seized the keys of an outstandingly drunk driver while previewing the bike course the day before the race. I actually had very little to do with the whole ordeal except to shout things like “holy cow!” while Mark was on the phone with the cops and we were following said driver as he swerved into medians, losing bits of his car along the way. Now you know the rest of the story, but really I just think it’s funny that Magali actually looks like a bit of a heroin addict in trouble with the authorities in this photo. And Mark may well be pretending not to know her.

ANYWAY, the race itself was a bit of a disaster. The swim was decent because it was a mass start and I found myself in a solid group of swimmers. For the first time ever, I was kicked in the face, but it wasn’t as bad as everyone makes is out to be. Thanks Sam J My biking legs weren’t as trashed from Ironman as I feared they might be, and I did enjoy segments of the course, but the run was a WHOLE different story. The first 5km were okay, and then I descended into survival mode. I struggled to stay below my full ironman run pace for the entire 2nd half of the run. In the end, I finished 4th and discouraged. It was the perfect way to start training camp.

Lifesport training camp – 13-20 July:

I am proud to report that, after getting off to a slow start, I put all of my bad-ass triathlete teammates to shame . . . in croquet. Beyond that one opportunity for total sporting domination, I didn’t have a whole lot to give. Camp was a challenge, both physically and mentally. I was dealing with a level of fatigue and burnout that was actually quite novel to me, but camp did prove what camps always tend to prove – every time I think I can’t climb one more hill or complete one more interval, I can. Ultimately, I am so thankful for my coach and my teammates, and my awesome homestays Dewain (pictured below – don’t ask), and Judy. Heather lakeside on our solo ride after we got dropped by the group before we even started. It was fun to catch up though.

After camp I headed back to Spokane for a week of solo training before another “just for fun” race. The drive was a little scenic.

Xterra Bozeman Wild Horse Creek – 26 July:

I’m not exactly sure what compelled me to climb aboard a mountain bike again after the Righteous Richland debacle, but I was eager to take a road trip, and where better to go than Bozeman, MT. After all, my sister lives there, as do good friends of Aaron. The race venue was gorgeous. Hyalite canyon is a must visit location for anyone fond of mountain scenery. I hadn’t taken the altitude into account, however (~7000 ft), and the first few strokes of my swim warm-up proved to be a preview of the gasping that would ensue for the rest of the day.

The race officials said that the water temperature was 55 degrees, and it did seem chilly, but not that bad. Surprisingly, the swim went just fine. I had a crummy start, and ended up having to swim around a lot of people after the first buoy. Nonetheless, once I found clean water and committed myself to breathing every two strokes, it was super-easy. I was the first woman out of the water. Miraculous.

The problem with being the first woman out of the water in an Xterra race, is that it meant that I spent the next 30 minutes pulling off to the side of the very technical single track to let people pass. I didn’t want to be “that person” who holds everyone up, and since I didn’t have a whole lot invested in the event, I was happy to let some outstanding mountain bikers pass me by. The first 4-5 miles were ridiculously difficult for me – roots, rocks, mud, and steep pitches. I’m a road biker, that’s my excuse. I remember thinking that there was no way I could do 16 miles of that. Then, there was a 1 mile section of dirt road followed by a long climb up a fire road, and I passed nearly everyone back. I couldn’t believe how casually people were rolling along the “easy” parts.

I felt like I had a pretty good lead over the other women at the top of the climb, and I would only have to just down the other side. But it wasn’t that easy. The climb hadn’t been technical, but the descent was. Not only was it very steep, but it was rocky and the lightweight wheels on my borrowed mountain bike were getting tossed around by the uneven terrain. It was very disconcerting, and I really didn’t want to get hurt and thereby sabotage the rest of my triathlon season. So I did a lot of pulling over and letting people pass again. The woman who eventually won was going absolutely gangbusters down that descent. She was one gutsy gal!

Even with my granny-like timidity (now I’m just waiting to be sent a youtube video of some kick-ass granny mountain biker), I ended up sliding out around a corner on the descent. I wasn’t going very fast, but I fell hard on some sharp rocks and it hurt! My hip throbbed the most, but I knew that my shoulder and knee were probably the most damaged. My foot was still clipped in when my knee hit the rocks and there was a scary twist in addition to the impact that made me want to cry. I felt it start to swell and I took a few moments to indulge my “what am I doing here?” self pity. But I still had to get down the mountain, so I got back on the bike for loop number two.

Loop two unfolded in essentially the same way. I rode past everyone on the non-technical climb and got annihilated on the descent. Just as I was about to reach the corner where I had fallen on the first loop, I found Aaron on the side of the trail walking his bike. He had flatted and hadn’t brought any spares and was in a pretty foul mood. I tossed him my spares bag and carried on. It’s pretty cool to be able to genuinely assist another competitor during a race, but it’s especially rewarding when he’s your fiancé.

My knee had swollen a bit more by the time I got to the run, and the impact of running was uncomfortable. But running on trails is WAY more fun than biking on trails. I was so much happier to have my legs in contact with the ground. It was a two loop run, and I happily ran along with no expectations over the relentlessly hilly course. At the turnaround for the 2nd loop my sister told me that I could “catch her.” I assumed that she was referring to crazy brave mountain biker woman, but my lungs could only take in so much oxygen on the climbs, so my overall effort in the chase was limited. In the end, I lost by 1 minute. I got a little frustrated thinking about all the time I spent dinking around on the mountain bike course, but had to remind myself that it was a “for fun” race and that was the mentality that I adhered to during the race.

Despite feeling rather banged up and having a worrisome shoulder condition (sprained biceps tendon, it turned out), it was a really fun trip. I love when Aaron and I get to race together, and we got to spend the rest of a beautiful Bozeman afternoon hanging out with the Kalinowskis. It basically involved a lot of swinging, watermelon, and chickens. Then I got to grab lunch with my sister, her boyfriend, and her new kitten Spike. Spike is SO cute; the photos just don’t do him justice. Ultimately, we were treated to a classic Montanan thunderstorm – a perfect weekend.

The next few days of training were pretty rough, as swimming was compromised by my shoulder, and running was compromised by my knee. I could tell that both were improving though, so I tried not to get too anxious about it. Then I got hit by a car while riding home from work. It was my first such incident, and the driver was very apologetic. It made me not hate her, even though she is a VERY lousy driver. I’m tempted to put her name on the blog, since she never actually returned my phone calls after the incident (I wasn’t clever enough to get insurance information or call the police at the time of impact), but I don’t really believe in vigilante justice.

I’m actually really, really lucky because I had a split second to react, which lessened the impact. Also, because I was riding home from work, I was wearing a backpack and that cushioned me when I endoed. I considered calling the cops after the fact, but like the shoulder and knee, I could tell that my injuries were going to heal sufficiently with a bit of time. The sore neck and coccyx were to be expected, and they got better within a week. The most lingering malady was curious – my xiphoid process. I have no idea how one injures a xiphoid process by getting hit by a car, but it was 2 full weeks before I could do any core work again.

The xiphoid couldn’t keep me from doing my very favorite race the following weekend though – our local half ironman, the Troika. Troika was my first ever half ironman, and I learned a thing or two about running 13.1 miles on exposed asphalt in 97 degrees. It’s never very fun, and Troika invariably delivers in this regard. Actually, last year was the exception – it was only about 82, if I remember correctly. This year, the forecast was a nice even 100 degrees. My training was going miserably, and I didn’t know if I was just exhausted or if the incessant July heat was undermining my run sessions. I was surprised to be dreading the race. Even the day before, when everyone stopped into work to pick up their race packets, I regretted signing up. Packet pick-up is usually the peak of pre-race excitement, and I was flagging. I think it was the number 100 that loomed and the knowledge of how horribly exposed and miserable that run course can be.

But I went. Buddy Rick picked me up for the whatever consecutive week of racing at way too early an hour. I wasn’t as organized as I should probably have been, and I was probably way too social in transition before the race (someone had to stay busy informing all of her friends that wetsuits were a ridiculous idea on such a hot day). In the end, I didn’t convince anyone to join me in the wetsuitless brigade (flotilla?), but I personally enjoyed the single half hour of the entire day that I did not spend sweating profusely. My swim time (32:07) was a bit demoralizing and I entered T1 feeling unmotivated and distracted. That may be why I lost track of my race number. I ran out of the transition area, realized it was missing, laid my bike on the ground, took off my timing chip, and ran back into transition to look for it. I couldn’t find it, so I pleaded with the officials to not disqualify me. What I hadn’t considered was that in laying my bike on its side, I had allowed all of the water to spill out of my aero bottle, leaving me with a few sips until the aid station at mile 26. Brilliant.

The motivation didn’t really come. I saw Manny cheering on the side of the road around mile 20 and it occurred to me. “I am having the laziest race of my life,” I proclaimed to him. I do love the Troika bike course, so tooling along well below ordinary race effort was kind of nice. It had the added benefit of keeping my legs feeling fresh and light. The short, steep hills in the last few miles of the course that were historically tough for me felt like nothing.

I had two goals for the race. The first was to not completely melt on the run, and the second was to beat my T2 time from last year – 17 seconds. Unfortunately, my numberless status led to some confusion in the volunteers procuring the proper gear bag, so I didn’t meet my goal. In fact, it took me nearly twice as long to get through T2 this year. I did meet my run goal though. The second I started running, I felt fantastic. It was hot, but perhaps after 4 weeks of dealing with July, I was finally acclimated. One hundred degrees is nothing that a cupful of ice in the sports bra can’t combat. I saw loads of friends heading the opposite way on the out-and-back run (local races rock) and pretty much just had a jolly time. It was my 3rd Troika win, but truly, my best ever Troika because I managed a negative split on the run for the first time.

Afterwards, I got to hang out in the medical tent with the awesome B&B crew and Aaron, who I coerced into spending the day volunteering there. It was actually pretty fun, especially given that they had ample amount of ice and fans.

Coach Dan and I made an agreement when I was in Victoria. He didn’t want me to race six consecutive weekends in a row, but I did. So I conceded and we removed the Coeur d’Alene Scenic Challenge from the race schedule. He loaded me up with training all week after Troika, and it would seem logical that 60-odd miles of running would take the edge off of my desire to race. Unfortunately, it didn’t, so two days before the Coeur d’Alene race, I pleaded with my poor coach, who ultimately conceded.

Dan even let me race knowing that I looked like this. Not the result of a mountain bike crash nor a bike/car collision. Rather, it was a paper wasp who had my number. Running is very strange with one eye shut.

Much better by day 3 . . .

I love the Coeur d’Alene Scenic Challenge. The bike leg is really challenging, as it consists primarily of a sustained climb with an awesomely fun, fast descent. After my experience of seriously under biking in Troika, and thus feeling good on the run, I decided to take a similar approach to the bike in Cd’A. Especially on the climb, I really backed of, but I don’t truthfully know how much more I had in me, given the week’s training. The real hilarity of this race is that it was super cold and windy. Six days after racing a half ironman 30 miles away in 100 degrees, I was on my bike and shivering with numb feet. My bike computer went flying off at bottom of the long descent, so I didn’t know how my time was stacking up to previous years, but I was a little disappointed to see after the fact that it was 2 minutes slower than the year before. Sure, I had trained harder in the previous week, conditions were a bit tougher with the wind, and last year I spent most of the bike chasing Annie and Ali Fitch, but I retrospectively don’t think that my under biking strategy was appropriate for an Olympic distance race. Race and learn, race and learn.

The run was a non-event really. My legs felt a tad dissociated from my body and 6.35 miles felt ridiculously short after the half 6 days prior. But I wanted to have a good time and that I did. Like Troika, the course is an out and back so I pretty much got to see the entire Inland Northwest triathlon crowd racing and there were smiles all around. It was a good training day, and I made a point of thanking Coach for letting me do it.

I think that Dan perhaps didn’t want me to race every weekend because races increase the chance of injury. Indeed, when Annie, her mom, and I went huckleberry picking the next day, my calves were feeling ominously tight when we scrambled up hillsides. It was strange because I hadn’t even run very fast. My attempt at a fartlek run the following day was a non-event, and I started to get worried and coerced my co-worker into giving me a calf massage in exchange for GUs. A race much more important than my prior 3 was on tap for the next weekend, and I was worried.

Nonetheless, I packed up the Subaru the next weekend and headed down the Columbia River gorge to Portland, trusting that a fully compressed day in the car would set my calves straight. If nothing else, I figured that the weekend would make for a fun reunion with my Midd friend Kitt, who I shared an apartment with in Italy during our junior year. Kitt is in naturopathy school in Portland and she suggested heavy doses of magnesium and calcium in addition to some additional herbs that I had to turn down because I had no idea what they were. WADA scares me. After meeting up with some other pro athletes, the race director, and some local Ironhead club athletes for dinner, I navigated through SW Portland to find Kitt. It did turn out to be a fun reunion. We hit the Portland farmers market and scored some awesome fresh produce, we made Tuscan ribollita, went for a beautiful walk up some paths along the river and watched some corny old movies. And I raced the Hulaman half IM the next day.

The Hulaman was a lot of fun for me. The swim in Hagg Lake was gorgeous, but it was impossible to see the buoys on the far end of the course from shore because of the glare on the water. I sat on another athlete’s feet for the first 2/3 of the swim though, so I never actually had to do any of the navigating into the sun. I don’t think that the swim course was particularly short, given that I came out of the water with athletes who usually swim faster than I, and I swam a 28:30. That’s good for me! I got onto my bike in T1 only to realize that my front brake was rubbing even though I had checked it meticulously before the race. I wasn’t able to straighten the calipers out, so I just opened up the brake. Naturally, I forgot that my front brake was so loose on the first lap around Hagg Lake when I had to make a turn at the bottom of a descent. Ooops – good thing it wasn’t the rear brake that I had left open!

I loved biking around Hagg Lake. It’s constantly rolling, and while the hills aren’t particularly grueling, it is always going up or down. We biked around the lake 2.5 times before heading north to Forest Grove. I didn’t love that section as much. The gently rolling, surrounding farmland was scenic, but the chip was rough, the headwind incessant, and it was LONELY. I had no idea whether I was gaining on the girls ahead or whether I was losing time to those behind, so I plugged away at an intensity that was somewhere in between my normal ½ bike pace and my relaxed Troika pace. The pace with the headwind was admittedly demoralizing, but I knew that the other girls were fighting the same elements.

When I came into T2, I found out that I was 7 minutes behind Amy and 4 behind Kelly. That was a little more time than I had planned to lose, so I focused on staying ahead of Sam. I kept the pace on the out and back run fairly conservative, so as to be able to respond to any challenge. I was about a mile behind both Kelly and Amy at the turn and about 3 minutes ahead of Sam. So I decided to stay below 6:30 min/miles. I didn’t think that Sam would have sub 6’s in her so soon after Lake Placid, but this is also the girl who placed 2nd in Clearwater a few weeks after placing 2nd in Kona, so I didn’t rest easy until I crossed the finish line in 3rd.

It was great to see fellow Zooter Kelly Couch race so well and to catch up with former Zoot Ultra teammate Amy Marsh after the race. It was a superbly laid back, relaxed post-race atmosphere, complete with a Luau. I met several solid personalities and left the race in a very good mood. It was a nice confidence booster going into Canada, a beautiful day, and a well run event. A paycheck never hurts either.

And now I’m listening to some horrific music whilst I pilfer internet in the Penticton Safeway with Katya and Mark. I have to say, regardless of how the race goes tomorrow (I know only that it will be HOT), it’s been a fun time hanging out with these two all week.

Righteous Richland

2009-07-08T08:52:00.000-07:00

I've been nostalgic for my first season doing triathlons lately. I was home from New Zealand for a month, it was July, and I saw an advertisement for the Tiger Tri in Colville. It was a quarter-ironman and it seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. I seriously underestimated how long it would take to drive to Colville, how much air to put in my bike tires (I figured that 40 psi was about right), and how capable I was of swimming the front crawl. I backstroked about 70% of the swim, I hammered away on my over sized cross bike, and I ran WAY off course on the run, but when I crossed the finish line I was completely hooked.

I did 3 more triathlons during the next 3 consecutive weekends - a sprint, an olympic, and then finally a 1/2 ironman. I didn't really know what I was getting into with that last one, but I bluffed my way through it and thought that I had just accomplished one of the most incredible feats known to mankind. I signed up for all 4 of those races on race day or the day before. Now most of them sell out well in advance (and some within hours of registration opening). That summer was exceptionally hot and I met many of my now best friends while sitting in the shade eating post-race feeds and awaiting age-group awards. Remembering it all still gives me the warm fuzzies.

For the last couple of years, the majority of my races have been a lot more organized, official, and ceremonious. Bikes get checked in a day in advance, and pro meetings are mandatory. Security bracelets are worn. Awards happen in a banquet tent, and spectators aren't allowed in the finishing area. It's exciting to be able to participate in such world class events, but sometimes I miss just showing up on race day, having a blowout, and sitting in the shade waiting for awards.

When Robin (boss extraordinaire) mentioned the Righteous Richland mtn bike sprint triathlon happening on the 4th of July, my interest was piqued, and it had nothing to do with my awesome mtn biking skills. I tossed the idea around that afternoon (it was July 2) and wrote a quick e-mail to Coach pleading my case. I was pretty skeptical that he would give me the okay, even though I promised to take it easy. Surprisingly, he not only said it would be fine to do, but also encouraged me to "have fun with it," rather than to take it easy. Yay! Then, it was just a matter of coercing a friend or two into coming, and Manny was easy bait at work the next morning. The exchange went something like this:

"Hey Manny, do you want to do a mtn bike sprint triathlon in Richland tomorrow?"
"Sure, that sounds fun. I just need to find a mtn bike."
"I have one you can use."
"Really? Cool."

And so we proceeded to plot our 2 hour road trip to Richland. The only catch was the wake up time. 3:45 am. The last time I had set my alarm at all was 2 weeks prior, for IM Cd'A, and it was set for the exact same time. I guess some triathlon inconveniences are unavoidable, big race or not. Race day registration was a breeze, and due to the unexpected number of participants, the race started 15 minutes late. I love that. "Hey folks, we had a few more people register than expected, so we'll be starting about 15 minutes late."

The swim was downstream in the Columbia River. There wasn't a noticeable current, but given that I swam 800m in eight-odd minutes, I'm guessing that we were indeed getting a push. I had a blast in the swim and actually led my group. We cut back to shore a little bit sooner than the 1st pack and ended up coming in just behind them. You're not likely to ever hear me say this again, but I do wish that the swim had been a little longer. It was fun.

The mountain bike was a slightly different story. I ride my mountain bike about, oh, once or twice a year. I'm not exactly tuned into it the way I am my tri and road bikes. If my seat on my tri bike is a fraction of a mm too high or low, it drives me nuts. I just guessed my seat height on the mtn bike for the day, and it wasn't exactly comfortable, but hey, it's what I deserved. What was a little more uncomfortable was when the nose of the saddle bent sideways after my wipeout. Yeah, I ate a lot of dirt. Just when I started to think that I should start trusting the bike a little more instead of slowing way down for each turn (there were lots of them) I paid the price. In the end though, it was just a lot of dirt, a few scrapes and bruises, and a touch of embarrassment.

Running. Lets just say that I didn't do a whole lot of it in the two weeks between IM Cd'A and Righeous Richland. My legs felt like two noodles dissociated from my body and my turnover was pretty slow. It felt like I hadn't done any running at that intensity for a long time. The more interesting phenomenon was all of the dust and dirt on my legs and torso turning to mud as I got progressively sweatier. Still, I moved up 5 or 6 places in the field to finish 4th overall and 1st woman. I really wasn't in this race to win, I just wanted to have fun and to push my body again (Coeur d'Alene feels like ages ago).

Afterwards, it was a dip in the Columbia to rinse my wounds (probably not the greatest idea) and to cool down. It hit 100 degrees in Richland that day, and there was nothing better than sitting in the shade, meeting new people and waiting for awards. I felt a little bit like I was crashing a party, with the majority of the 200-something participants being from the tri city area, but there were actually a lot of people there that I knew from other races, and even more new people to meet. The best part is that the awards came from the Ice Harbor Brewery - beer glasses and harvest pale ale! Beer, a well-organized race, and good people - all for the amazing price of $18 (plus $5 late registration fee). Does anyone still put on a triathlon this cheaply anymore?! Except, I suppose, for the San Diego Tri Club's free club races. Huge kudos are in order to race director Eric Greager and the 3 Rivers Road Runners for putting on such an awesome, inexpensive, well run event. It was everything I wanted minus a bit of skin.

Ironman Coeur d'Alene is Cold

2009-06-26T08:39:00.000-07:00

I've now raced Ironman Coeur d'Alene in 97 degree heat, 55 degree wind and rain, and just about everything in between. Still, it's my favorite race. I may be partial to the event because it takes place ½ hour from my house and I know about 30% of the total competitors, but it’s also worth mentioning that Coeur d'Alene is one of the most scenic and challenging domestic Ironmans on the circuit and that the town of 42,000 is outstandingly supportive of the event. The final 200 meters down (literally, downhill) Sherman Ave are unrivaled in their boisterousness and enthusiasm. Mostly though, I love that this race is an excuse for my friends and family to reunite.

This year was particularly special because my friend Deb and her partner Mike came all the way from Wellington, New Zealand for the event. Deb and I met back in our days at Otago University where we were both first dipping our toes in the world of bike racing and triathlon. A year later, in 2006, we found ourselves standing alongside 1200 other wetsuit-clad athletes in Taupo, New Zealand, just before being told that the winds were such that Ironman New Zealand would not include a swim that day. Later, we were informed that the bike and run portions of the event would be halved as well. So much for our first “Ironman.”

In a somewhat coincidental twist, the ½ iron duathlon that ensued was started in a time trial format and I remember being passed less than halfway through the bike portion by an American girl cycling at ungodly speeds. Her name was Tyler Stewart, and, as an age-grouper, she ended up placing 2nd overall in the event, just behind Jo Lawn.

Anyway, Deb and I both went on to separately complete numerous “real” Ironmans after the Taupo disaster, but we vowed to do one together someday. She made good on that promise by training through the Wellington winter and traveling across multiple time zones to come compete in IM Coeur d’Alene. It was awesome. My dad was generous enough to let my companions and me converge upon his vacation house on the lake, where all of the important race goings-on were a mere 10 minute boat ride away. The entourage at his house included Mike and Deb, Shelby and Phaedra, Aaron and Lily, my brother, sister, and sister in-law, and my dad and Susan. The night before the race was fantastic – great food, a spectacularly beautiful evening at the Gozzer Ranch golf course, and ideal company. Except for the fact that I was dressed in my Zoot CompressRx recovery tights, it was easy to forget that I had an Ironman to race the next day.

Lily helped me test my equipment.

Race morning in Coeur d’Alene dawned typically chaotic and semi-typically windy. And cold. I hurried through final T1 preparations, and lots of well-wishes to friends, before heading to the swim start in time for an ample warm up. With 20 minutes to the race start, I expected to be one of the last pros down to the water, but Bryan Rhodes was the only other person warming up. I swam out into the chop and after passing a couple of buoys, I had a moment of relaxation floating on my back and looking at the sky. It was so peaceful, barely hearing the music and murmer of thousands of people on the beach and staring as what was then an un-foreboding sky. We had been informed at the pro meeting that it would be a running start from about 10 meters up the beach, because the media wanted more exciting coverage of the race start. Having not done a dolphin dive all year, I was less than enthusiastic at the prospect, but I had no control over the matter, so I literally toed the line and waited for the cannon. The only nerves I felt all week were in those two minutes before the gun went off. I knew that the day would transpire as it would and there was no need to feel anxious about it, but everyone was lined up and ready to go when the 2 minute warning was given, so it just seemed silly to not just let us start right then!

Amazingly, I got off to a great start. I was in a giant pack (relatively speaking) for the first several hundred meters. I could see Kate and Heathers’ swim caps around me and I was astounded that I was actually sitting in the main pack in such crazy choppy water. Eventually, the pack strung out, and I ended up in a smaller group of swimmers more like myself ability-wise, but at least I wasn’t alone, and for the first time EVER, I found myself really enjoying the swim portion of an Ironman. I knew that I wasn’t going to be the fastest girl out of the water, but I really appreciated every stroke, especially after the turn when we got to body surf the waves back in. Unlike last year, I got a really good gap on the mass start and didn’t get completely clobbered after the first lap. A major bonus.

By the 2nd lap fo the swim the wind had shifted a bit and instead of heading directly into the waves, they came at us at an angle. It made the far turn buoys very difficult to navigate and didn’t allow for the same joyous body surfing on the final stretch back to shore. That was a bummer, but land was in sight, and I was keen to do what I (usually) do best – ride my bike.

T1 was a total breeze. My wetsuit strippers rocked, and I was out of there in 2 minutes. I know the Cd’A bike course very well, and I meant to approach the bike leg very tactically. My goal was to take it easy on the hills and to really attack the descents and the more technical sections. I usually over-bike in races, so I focused hard on getting my heart rate under control in the first 10 miles and taking it from there. Unfortunately I was a little too successful, and I spent the entire bike with an abnormally low heart rate, even on the hills. I imagine that the weather played a significant role in this phenomenon, but I have to admit that I was a little scared to see such low numbers. By mile 40 I was feeling strangely dizzy, so I eased off even more, decreasing the HR even further. I felt flat and lethargic and strangely unfocused on the leg that I really thought would be my forte. I seriously considered pulling out of the race at T2, because I couldn’t imagine running a marathon feeling that dizzy and flat, but I slipped on my Zoot shoes and decided to let the day play on.

I don't have any photos of the bike, but Shelby did send me this shot of what the rest of the gang was up to during the bike. I'm not quite sure what that was, but I can see it involved a lot of clothing.

Coming out of T2, I was in 6th place, about 15 seconds behind 5th. I really wanted to run into 5th place because I wanted a bicycle escort. It’s silly because for the 1st 4 miles of the marathon, I was only a few meters behind 5th and the cyclist was another 20 meters ahead of both of us, but until I passed her, he technically wasn’t my escort, and I wanted him. Around mile 5, we caught 4th place, and 7th place caught up to us. So there were four of us running within 10 seconds of each other and I knew it would be a tight race. Then it seemed like everyone else just slowed down. I felt great and was running a very conservative marathon. I don’t think I sped up at all, but suddenly I had the 4th place bike escort and everyone else seemed to drop off. That’s when I started to run a little scared. There was a huge gap to Tyler, Kate and Heather, and a very small gap between me and about 5 other girls. So I resolved to do what I had to do to hang onto 4th. It turns out that I didn’t have to do very much except maintain my pace, but I was uneasy about their proximity until the final mile. Overall, the run was very cold, but really fun.

I’m glad I didn’t pull out at T2 because my favorite section of any IM course is making the left-hand turn onto Sherman Ave for the last 200 meters of IM Coeur d’Alene. The street is super-wide, lined with fans who make you feel like the only athlete in the world, and it’s an easy downhill coast to the finish line. I got to slap lots of hands and wave to friends. I was truthfully hoping to place a little higher in this race, but overall, it was a 17 minute improvement over last year, and that included contending with some pretty brutal weather conditions. I doubted myself a lot on the bike but didn’t pull the plug and ended up feeling great on the run (albeit, very, very cold). Last year my final time of 9:51 would have put me very close to second, but there were a number of top-tier athletes here this year, and I was pleased to be in the mix. Tyler had an absolutely spectacular race, destroying the course record, and my hat goes off to her. Now, I just want this recovery business to go by quickly so I can get racing again. That’s what summer is for, after all!

I want to finish this race report with a HUGE thanks to my supportive family and my sponsors: Zoot, Lifesport (Coach Dan), Zipp, Orbea, Suunto, AlCis, Fuel Belt, Fitness Fanatics, the Spokane Athletic Club, and Runners Soul. To the Spokane/Coeur d’Alene triathlon community: you rock. Thanks so much for the cheers, the splits, and the friendship. To my friends going to Kona (Eve, Sam, and Jeff): many congratulations and I hope you’ll let me train with you this summer. To Adrienne, Deb, Robin, John, Morgan, Manny, Sarah, Laura, Corey, and Rick: I am so impressed with all of your Ironman finishes, and am glad to have shared parts of this journey with y’all. To Phaedra, Shelby, Andy, Cassy, Bri, Dad, and Susan, Lily, and especially Aaron: thanks for putting up with me during endless training days and race week. You’re my people and I love you.

Thanks also to Larry Rosa and Jessi Thompson for photos.

May Days

2009-05-25T09:48:00.000-07:00

May is surely the Northern Hemisphere's most perfect month. To begin with, it's a month that starts with Wildflower, one of the Northern Hemisphere's most perfect races. Then, it proceeds to produce cherry, apple, and lilac blossoms, which make even the most dog poop covered streets of Florence smell delicious. It's a month with long days, but without sweltering heat. Around Spokane, it's the most warmth and green that can be experienced simultaneously, and for type A triathletes at the peak of IM Coeur d'Alene preparation, May is when we get to be complete training gluttons. Ahh.

I don't have a lot of photographic evidence of being at Wildflower this year, so I've decided to include some pictures from past years. My sincerest apologies to those involved. This is Conrad making the most of snow peas in 2007.

Our "family portrait" from the same year.

Dan rocking the Speedo. The real reason I love this photo is the guy about to pee his pants laughing in the background.

Rachael being scary. Funny scary.

This year was a lot more mellow. Still, Eve and I had to test out our super cool looking aero helmets and intimidation faces before the race. I think that Eve made it as far as befuddled but not quite all the way to to intimidation. It's rough being so nice.

This is Annie setting up camp the day before the race - proof that we actually did so. We may have wimped out a little when it started to rain, and that may have resulted in our crashing Eve and Laura's hotel room, but we did camp the next night. We had to prove that we were still a little hard core. I mention is just in case you didn't get the "hard core" vibe from the aero helmet shot.

The race itself was great for me for 67.3 miles. My swim was nothing special, but nothing horrendous either, and I've learned to celebrate that. I was a little disappointed to swim alone (AGAIN!), because my last few races I've actually managed to swim with a pack and thought I had finally outgrown the solo swim. Oi vey.

The bike felt fantastic. Climbing Beach Hill was a breeze, and I was surprised by how many women I passed in the first few miles of the bike. Last year I only caught 2 people total on the bike, and that included one woman who I passed coming down Lynch hill in the final mile. I didn't have any HR data, and I'm still not on the power train, so I was going on perceived effort, and it felt pretty easy. When I got to the top of Heart Rate Hill, some people told me that I was 3 minutes off of the leader, which was exciting to hear. By that point I had deduced who the 3 women were ahead of me and I expected that they all would have swum more than 3 minutes faster than I. I admite that got a little excited at the prospect of having the fastest bike split.

Into T2, and all was going well. We northerners were lucky that it wasn't too hot, and I felt pretty good starting out the run. I am ashamed to say that I wasn't expecting to hold 4th place for long. I knew all of the girls that I had passed on the bike, and I had a pretty good idea of how fast they could run. I decided to start conservatively and save myself for the tough bit at the end. That was the plan anyway. By mile 9, no one had passed me and I was feeling great. I actually started to believe that 4th place was mine and that I might actually catch Erica (because everyone kept telling me that she was just ahead). The fueling was going well, there was enough wind to stay cool, and I was shocked at how much better I felt racing than I did in 2008. At mile 10 I experienced the 2nd most instantaneous bonk of my life.

Side note: The most instantaneous bonk of my like occurred at the 7.5 km marker in the ITU age group world champs in Honolulu. That bonk earned me an ambulance ride to Queens hospital and 6 liters of IV fluid. All for bargain price of $8000. It turns out that my health insurance didn't cover "injuries incurred during participation in amateur sporting events." The moral of that story, folks, is to always read the fine print. And don't forget to hydrate.

Anyway. The last 3 miles of the run were pretty ugly. Heather Wurtele and Tyler Stewart passed me at about 11.5 miles and they ended up putting 3 and 5 minutes on me respectively. It was that ugly. But I kept my feet moving in a cadence that resembled running, I enjoyed the day, and I learned a lot. I keep coming back to Wildflower not because it's a race that plays to my strengths (quite the opposite, in fact), but because it absolutely rocks. The vibe, the course, the road trip (17.5 hours each way, baby), and the organization make it a must do event for anyone involved in triathlon. Every time I drove in and out of the park, I was awed by the fact that 10,000 triathletes can be managed so well.

A major perk this year was that Clancy and Charlie rented an RV with a hot shower and parked it right next to transition. Any shower is welcome after a race, but this one definitely beat standing in line to take a tepid shower at the campsites.

This is road trip buddy Laura waiting in line for her turn to shower. The smile is well deserved after finishing her first ever 1/2 ironman.

In other Spokanite news, Eve had a little run-in with the pavement during the bike leg. She waited at an aid station for 30 minutes for medical assistance to arrive and finally decided to just finish the darned thing. She might not have looked terribly hard core in the helmet, but the road rash certainly gives her transition cred. The elbow actually ended up with stitches.

And now I'm just training diligently for Ironman Coeur d'Alene and enjoying most every second. Time for some pictures of May.

The photo below is a juvenile Boreal toad (Bufo boreas boreas) that I found at my dad's house this morning. Most of my friends know that I love frogs and salamanders, but I absolutely adore boreal toads. I haven't seen one since I worked in Yellowstone, and it was such a treat. Spring rocks.

I actually had to get Aaron out of bed to show him Toady. I know I scored a good guy because he was excited too. That or he has learned enough to feign excitement.

These subsequent photos were taken on a day when my front derailleur wasn't cooperating. I had to get off of my bike to fix it every time I shifted, so I figured I might as well snap some photos.

Admiring Latah Creek . . .

Look a little closer . . .

And closer yet . . .

Deer aren't exactly exotic exotic, but a fuzzy antlered young buck standing in a stream is photo worthy.

When I ignore the tractors spraying stinky pesticides all over the Palouse, I can appreciate its pastoral beauty.

Just a random derailleur stop

One of the more delicious feral apple trees, come September. No, I won't tell where it is. I plan to fully exploit it for sauce and cobbler.

Grow little apples, grow!

Remember this picture from February?
Here it is in May. And this?

Viola! 3 months later . . .

I've always loved the last mile on my way home under the Sunset bridge. I especially love it when there is a train (not pictured).

Finally home, spying our little yellow house through the foliage. Vegetation makes everything prettier. Except, perhaps, for Antarctica.

I hope you've all enjoyed the your days of May as much as I have. Thanks for reading.

Warmer Climes

2009-04-22T18:25:00.000-07:00

After an extended stay in the more southern reaches of the continent, I returned to Spokane to find just what I had desperately wanted. Fuzzy green grass, budding maple trees, crocuses, daffodils and tulips blooming, and an Ironman Coeur d’Alene bike course open for business. There were a few patches of snow left along the sides of the road, undoubtedly from systems that moved through in December, but the roads were dry, marginally swept, and just as momentum-killing as I remember. It’s good to be back.

My time away began in March, when I flew to San Diego for one too-short day with Shelby and one positively beautiful bike ride with Brian and some other TCSD members. Then it was off to Guatemala for a medical mission trip with Hearts in Motion. I can’t begin to do the experience justice on this triathlon blog, but among other things it reinforced the universality of the human condition, the true capacity of a single person to do an inordinate amount of good in the world, and the relative lack of fortitude of the North American GI system.

Jeremy (the cat) decided to help me pack. That was shortly before he decided to run in front of a car and become a substantially more expensive cat while I was away. Still, his life is better than that of the dogs in the Teculetan dump. . .

. . . and the cows that graze beside flaming pits of garbage.

And sadly, Jeremy's life is probably better than most of the kids who live at the dump. Nonetheless, I love that an impromptu game of soccer is still a lot of fun in such a dire environment.

This kid is a little luckier. He was taken in by nuns at the local nutrition center and is now on track to a much healthier life.

Most of my time in Guatemala was spent with the dental team. We were dispatched to a different remote village every day to do some rudimentary hygiene, oral health instruction, and a lot of extractions. It is sad that that which is a last-ditch procedure in North America is modus operadum in Guatemala, but ultimately the fact that we were there with Lidocane spared a lot of people a lot of pain. These two girls are awaiting extractions. Their names are Imelda and Olga. I love it.

A makeshift dental chair in an old school room (actually the plastic bins in which we transported supplies).

This is a picture of Karen Sheeringa carrying a portable toilet into one of the villages where we did a medical/dental clinic. She is testimony to the fact that one person can make a big change in this world. She single-handedly started Hearts in Motion and is personally responsible for the construction of countless orphanages, nutrition and day-care centers, and playgrounds. For decades, Karen has sent plastic and orthopedic surgeons to developing countries, she has facilitated the treatment of hundreds of kids needing medical treatment in the US, and has often fostered many of them during their stays here. In the midst of all that, she fostered over 300 children, 11 of whom she adopted, and she continues to inspire thousands of volunteers to do more. The woman oozes love and compassion and also has a wicked sense of humor, which makes her that much more approachable and fun.

Adding more richness to the trip was the fact that my dad and sister were there as well, and although we don’t live terribly far apart, it’s rare that we spend extended periods of time in such close proximity. It was 11 years ago that my dad first took me on a medical trip to Buga, Colombia where he was doing cleft lip, cleft palate, and burn surgeries, and he and my sister have subsequently made numerous trips to Zacapa, Guatemala. I only got to spend one full day in surgery with my dad, but it made me incredibly proud of him and the work he does. People tell me all the time what a skilled and compassionate surgeon my dad is, but to see him in action and to see the faces of cleft lip and macrostomia patients instantly transformed made it all much more real to me.

A self portrait of Cassy and me on the roof of the hospital in Zacapa.

driving back from one particularly scenic clinic.

The trip was capped by a visit to Antigua, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. We also manged to find a sports bar there in time to watch the Zags get annihilated by UNC.

But really this is a triathlon blog, right?

Returning to San Diego was a bit surreal after the intense day-to-day experience that was Guatemala, but truthfully, I was looking forward to getting back to training and a land of improved air-quality. Guatemala’s physical landscape was astounding, but the air quality was tarnished by multitudes of older vehicles with no emissions standards, open pits of burning garbage, the dust of the dry season, and particulate entrapping topography. My nose, eyes and lungs got progressively more irritated with every day spent there. It turns out that I am a lot less tough than your average Guatemalan, and so is my digestive tract. I had six days in San Diego before Oceanside 70.3 to get things sorted out, but unfortunately it took more like fourteen before everything was working normally again.

After 10 days of minimal training, I really wanted to hit the training hard, but with an imminent race, the volume wasn’t terribly substantial. It meant that I had a lot of spare time to hang out with Shelby, which rocked. I won’t divulge too much more except to say that we regressed quite a lot and may or may not have choreographed a dance to an entire Silver Platters song. On Thursday before the race, fellow Zoot ULTRA teammate Danielle showed up, which turned out to be a real treat. I knew Dee a little bit from camp and races last year, but hanging out in a more casual format was a blast. Then things got crazy as race day approached. Phaedra and Rachel showed up for the race and Timex camp, and the house became progressively more fun (loud?). Any pre-race anxiety was easily drowned out.

I didn't really take photos, but here's a good one of Shelby and Boomer.

The race was about like it is every year. Over the past 3 years I’ve learned that all pre-race hype regarding water temperature is mostly just that, but that a down jacket in transition pre-race is never regretted. The swim went better than last year, mainly because I didn’t do the whole thing by myself. I should probably also credit the fact that I swam regularly throughout the winter, as opposed to last year when I took 2 months off of swimming because I didn’t really feel like it.

I loved the bike. I would have loved it more if I had gone faster, but it’s still early. If past years are any indication, I will only get faster as the season goes on. It was a beautiful day in Camp Pendelton and my legs felt fresh, as they should after 2 weeks of relative rest. I spent most of the bike leg just being happy that I got to race in such a beautiful place.

I lost it a bit mentally on the run. It wasn’t bad, per se, it just wasn’t good either. I kept a pretty steady pace, slowing a bit towards the end and I just sort of settled in. It was the kind of race that was just fine. Just fine races aren’t nearly as fun as awesome races, but they’re better than dreadful races (Kona ’08 comes to mind . . . ). Hopefully the lack of post-race excitement that I felt will compel me to race a little harder next time. I think I need to stop thinking of races as “B” or “C” races, because that attitude makes me a little complacent when the going gets tougher (as it should towards the end of any race).

The trip didn’t end with the race. After that, it was off to Carlsbad for a couple days of Zoot camp, which got me even more excited about our team partners for 2009 - namely Suunto, GU (the chomps are AMAZING), Orbea and ALCiS (Shelby and I dubbed it the “magic cream”).

I also managed to squeeze in one more good ride with Bill Holland, the guy who built Shelby’s rad little titanium bicycle. The last day of the trip was capped with a San Diego Triathlon Club club race. It was a cold, blustery day on Fiesta Island, which I loved. The swim was okay, the bike awesome, and the run disappointing. Of all the racing highs and lows I’ve experienced in the past 5 years, the one that kept me up for more nights than any other was this one. Jennifer Spieldenner and I ran shoulder to shoulder for the first 2 mile lap, and then I just let her go during the second lap. The legs were a little wobbly from post-Oceanside fatigue, but I really wasn’t feeling particularly taxed when I watched her run away. I just didn’t care, and that made me SO angry with myself. I’m not claiming that I could have beaten Jennifer, I just know that I could have tried a lot harder. Yes, it was just a club race, yes, I was a bit tired from Oceanside, and yes, it was a “C-” race, but it’s time for me to start fighting. That’s my new 2009 resolution.

On a side note, I have to say that I was incredibly impressed with this race. It was well directed, had a good turnout, chip timing, and an amazing post-race feed. Thanks San Diego Tri Club!

And now it’s back to Spokane and a full training schedule. I love it. The weather is amazing, and even though we will likely experience more snow, rain, and wind, it’s all doable from here on out. Even the 10 inches of snow that fell last Tuesday melted before the day was over, so I feel comfortable relegating the trainer to the basement (even though my coach would surely like me to use it more often). I expect leaves on the trees in the next two weeks. This is surely my favorite time of year! Mild weather, the promise of breakfast in the sun on the porch, electric green vegetation, and the prospect of a summer of long hot bike rides through the Palouse. Happy Earth Day!

Last shot of me racing before my club race meltdown.

More gratuitous photos of snow

2009-03-12T20:40:00.000-07:00

After last weekend's mini-vacation to Sovereign Lake/Silverstar, I had plans to stone grind my skis and to put on the summer storage wax for the rest of the year. I didn't get in nearly as much skiing as I would have liked this winter, but the season was late to start and now spring is (theoretically) pending. At this point my thoughts and energies are approximately 98% consumed with all things triathlon, but yesterday, the mountain called to Aaron and me. Sure, the Mt. Spokane Snowline reported that it was zero degrees Fahrenheit, but the sun was shining and the winds were calm. The result?

More pictures of Aaron skiing. The lucky guy always gets to be on the other end of the camera.

It was a gorgeous day on the mountain. We are so lucky to have it as a recreational resource not only in the winter, but for mountain biking, trail running, and berry picking in summer. Which seems really, really far away. Especially because it snowed for 2 days straight and then a deep freeze involving record low temperatures sets in afterwards. My last blog post about the roads being clear was a bit premature. We got just enough snow and just enough cold to negate the previous month's warming.

Nonetheless, after 3 consecutive days of trainer riding, I was determined to do today's 90 miler outside. It may have been 7 degrees when I woke up, but, like yesterday, it was sunny and windless, which makes just about any temperature tolerable. The ride was awesome. I didn't really get to stop and take pictures except during one food stop (mittens and zippers are not conducive to eating on the fly), but I was completely awed by the landscape of the snow covered Palouse on a sunny day. It's a beauty so different from the deciduous pastoral landscape I fell in love with in college in Vermont. Worlds away from the Tuscan olive groves and Italian Alps that wowed me when studying abroad, and drastically different from the rides I used to do along ocean side cliffs in New Zealand. The Palouse may not be as spectacular, but it is home, it is special, and it is undeniably beautiful. I only wish that the weather had been such that I could have actually taken pictures that do the landscape justice.

As much as I love living and training here, I'm sick of being cold. SOOOO, next week I'm off to San Diego/Guatemala. Hopefully then I will be able to post some pictures that actually involve a variety of colors.

More training, some racing, and psyched for spring

2009-03-07T20:43:00.000-08:00

The good news is that the snow has been clear from the roads since the beginning of February, even though it hasn't been completely eliminated from the forecast. The bad news is that it's still too cold to bike without many, many layers. But the fact that I can ride outside is ALL GOOD. I brought the camera along a few weeks ago but only captured a fraction of the shots I wanted to because when biking in sub-freezing weather and wind, stopping is not an option.

I love my local roads and rides. I am so lucky to have so many long, interesting, variable, and traffic-free roads. Granted, there are only a few months each year when the riding is comfortable weather-wise, but the terrain (did I mention that there isn't any traffic?) rocks.

After finishing the above ride last weekend, Aaron and I headed up to Vernon, Canada for the BC Cup Biathlon Championships. I meant to take a lot of pictures, because it was a very well put on event and a pretty venue to boot, but I only managed one shot wherein I hit the picture button instead of accidentally turning the power off. It turns out that I can spend 4.5 hours biking in near-freezing rain, but I am the worlds most pathetic biathlon spectator. Even when wearing 5 layers (including wool and down), standing on snow completely drains all heat from my body. Fingers and toes go immediately numb and nearly all enjoyment is zapped from the experience. Except of course, when Aaron has a good shooting bout or when Ole Einar Bjorndalen skis by. He was really there!

Since getting back from Vernon, the weather has been pretty crummy. Luckily, I didn't have very much riding to do, but I did have my first non-snow related race in a long while - The Snake River Canyon half marathon. I'm not going to bother with too many race report details except to say that it was beautiful down in the canyon with snow on the canyon walls and the occasional appearance of blue sky.

The course is flat, but wind is almost always an obstacle. This year proved to be no different with a truly formidable head wind on the way out and a tailwind on the homestretch. Last year was the opposite, and we fought a ridiculous headwind on the way back. So really, conditions were easier this year. I did go a minute faster (1:23), but it wasn't quite what I was shooting for, especially given the reduced, albeit very much present, wind. I have to thank(?) Nicole C. for pushing me harder in the last couple miles than I really felt like going at the moment.

Annie was accidentally registered in the wheelchair division, which led to a minor pre-race snafu. She's now bitter that she didn't get to stay in the division because she would have come home with some snazzy hardware.

One thing I love about the race is that a good number of Spokanites head down, and because it's an out-and-back course, I get to see a lot of people I haven't seen all winter.. We're all just so eager to get off of the treadmills and trainers. I wasn't terribly conversational during the race today, but I did get to reconnect with a lot of friends post-race.

...and we were off

loving the wind

It was a pretty spectacular drive home, with some serious wind, sleet, and hail. Apparently the winds hit 52 mph in town. I couldn't resist this shot. With 5-10 inches of snow in the forecast, it's looking like it's going to be a fun 3 hour ride tomorrow. Sigh. Someday greenness will return to the area and my veggie garden will do this again. I actually dreamed last night that Aaron let me dig up the entire backyard to make a bigger, sunnier garden. Given the work he has done on the lawn, I doubt it will transpire. Seasons are pretty amazing.

Souper Bowl Sunday

2009-02-02T10:11:00.000-08:00

It's no secret that I'm not the world's most prolific blogger, but after a major triathlon I try to write up a race report within the month. Or two. Minor triathlons ("B" and "C" races) occasionally get a mention and cross country ski races almost never make the grade. Skiing is meant to be my antidote to competition. Occasionally while skiing, Aaron will tell me to practice my weak side V1 or suggest doing overspeed drills or intervals, and without much hesitation, I politely decline. I do want to become a better skier both technically and fitness-wise, but I don't want to treat going to the mountain like a training session. I want to feel smooth and fluid, go fast, see snow on trees, have fun winding down descents and enjoy a hot bowl of lentil soup at the end of the day. That might explain why I haven't improved a lot since I started skate skiing 2 years ago.

I'm also the kid who used to cry when my mom would beat me at Sorry or my brother at ping-pong, so I seek out competition even in the sport that I vow to treat non-competitively. "Souperbowl Sunday" is a benefit event for the Women's and Children's Free Restaurant at Mt Spokane that includes an a women's only 10km freestyle ski race. It was my first race 2 years ago, and I shocked myself by going out way too fast, crashing several times, but being so terrified of being caught while crashing or bonking that I went on to win the thing. And thus began the flow of competitive juices. The next year involved a bit more confidence, a few more races, and after winning every race I entered (no, these were not big Birkebeiner type events), I thought that was just the way it was going to be for me on skis. I didn't even have to do overspeed drills, and I could win.

For the race, I showed up at the Selkirk Lodge on Mt. Spokane in typically late fashion, was the 2nd to last person to register for the race (thanks Jayne for being more delinquent than I), and did a brief warm up. As I eyed up the start line I realized that my days of Souperbowl surpremacy were no longer secure. Deb Bauer, a local skiing legend who has raced in Leavenworth the past few years on Superbowl weekend was there, along with Allison Scott, who has been training really well and was testing several pairs of skis to find the fastest ones. Also in attendance were several members of the Jr. Nordic Racing Team. As is the standard, race director Robin announced that we would be required to double pole the 1st 20 meters or so - not my strength. Maybe I should have listened to Aaron's drill suggestions . . .

Naturally, I ended up behind the lead pack after the start and watched Deb pull away on the long, gradual climb that starts the race. I eased into the hill and gradually picked my way around a couple of people and set my sights on Deb. It required more focus than any skiing I've ever done before, but it worked and by the end of the first km I was sitting right on her tail scheming about when the best time would be to pass. I figured I'd take it easy for a few minutes and surge at some point on the back of Shadow Mtn. No matter, when Deb found out I was there, she put the hurt on and surged up the steeper part of Shadow, putting a gap in between us again. So much for my original plan. Onto Raven's Glide, a pretty, gradually rolling trail I tucked back in behind Deb, trying to pass, but could never find a place wide enough to get around. I was so close to getting around her on Hemlock, but Deb was savvy and knew how to hold the front position. My only option was to pass on the outside of a curve but being forced to take the longer route meant that I didn't have enough relative speed to pass. The only trail wide enough was Alpine and, knowing this, Deb hit it hard, and it took an amazing effort to stick with her. We cruised down the other side and past the finish to Brian's Hill. With less than 1 km remaining we had to go up and down a short, brutal hill. I decided to give it my all and just complete the pass to the outside, but ended up slipping in my frantic state. In that second, Deb put what I determined to be an insurmountable gap in between us.

I'm really frustrated with myself now for letting the race go in those final seconds when my legs and lungs were screaming "enough already." I shouldn't have listened to them. Around my head rattled a variety of stupid little thoughts "you don't need to hurt any more. . . you're an ironman triathlete, not a 10km ski racer . . . there's no way you can catch her in the last 100 meters . . . 2nd place is fine. . . Deb is more experienced and a stronger competitor. . . "
When it comes down to it, I'm not an xc ski racer, but I am a competitor and I lost that race because I wasn't willing to hurt when things hurt. Obviously, I completely respect Deb and know that she has and will accomplished way more than I ever will on skis, but I'm disappointed in my own chutzpah. I just need to make sure that the result is different if I'm faced with a similarly close finish in a triathlon.

After the race, I met up with Brian Southworth, one of our xc ski instructors through Fitness Fanatics, who had agreed to give me some classic ski pointers before next weekend's Langlauf 10 km classic race. In addition to being a phenomenal ski instructor, Brian can run with the best of them, and we spent about as much time talking race psychology as classic ski technique. It was a lot of fun! I don't expect huge things from next weekend, but I won't start with the kids in the back of the pack, so I should at least lop some time off from last year. Ultimately, I'm just looking to have fun :)

p.s. My Spokane Swifts teammate Jayne McLaughlin returned to xc skiing after two children and several years' hiatus to claim the title in the classic race. You'd be more impressed if you could see the outdated gear she was using. Nice job Jayne!

Victoria. . .

2009-01-20T14:41:00.000-08:00

. . . is so much warmer than Spokane. After finally being deemed a passport-bearing non-terrorist, I was allowed to invade the country to the north and come to training camp 2/3 the way through. The good news was that I got off the Swartz bay ferry with just enough time to make it to our Wednesday afternoon sodium/sweat loss test at the brand new Pacific Institute of Sport Excellence. The bad news was that this bike trainer session was 3 hours long.

I have never spent 3 constructive hours on a trainer in my life. I was honestly expecting a 45 minute test and thought that everyone was joking when they told me to settle in for 3 hours. Being a bit tardy, Torbjorn (my bike) and I were excommunicated to the nether regions of the lab with Brent McMahon and Coach Lance. It didn't take Coach Lance very long to decide that Brent and I weren't as interesting (or perhaps we were just a lot less mature?) as the larger group of athletes, so he left Brent and I to rock the B team alone. His loss. I don't know who won the sweat contest, but Brent and I definitely had more fun than anyone else in the lab. A few corny jokes, and 3 hours flew by.

Coach Lance - too cool for the B team

and seriously, he could have been hanging out with this lot. the photo unfortunately does not show Brent's incredibly full and masculine moustache.

That was when my appetite began to take over all waking moments of my life. Even though camp has been busy, I'm certainly not doing IM volume training, yet no amount of food seems to satiate. Luckily, Dewain and Judy have opened their doors to me, my bikes, and my putrid clothing again. With full access to their kitchen, I've been able keep a loose handle on the appetite.

Since the sweat test, there have been a few more trainer sessions, some frustrating swims (I'm not launching into that) and some blissful runs. The trails of Victoria are an amazing resource and remind me of the beautiful runs that were so much a part of my life in Dunedin. The longer runs are exhilarating, and the speedwork is so tactically simple: stay right in my coach's shadow. It works brilliantly - I just wish I could hire him to be my rabbit in the IM marathon.

I had considered two options post-camp. A tour de Canadian nordic centers, starting with Whistler and the Callahan Valley 2010 Olympic venue, or a few extra days in Victoria where I would be able to ride my bike outside! Given that I got to camp so late and that I haven't ridden outside since IM Arizona, I went with the latter option, and it's been well worth it. Coach Dan took Curtis and I on a scenic 2 hour base ride after our run intervals on Saturday, and then Sunday we hit the hills for 3 hours. It was a ride that very much mirrored our hill ride from camp in September except that there was a lot more snow, ice, slush and mud involved this time around. It was awesome and it was a reality check. I remember those hills being deliciously tough and totally manageable in September, but they were just plain tough this time around. I'm completely encouraged though, because I know that come June, I'll relish the hills again. I needed these few months of not riding to be reminded of how much fun it will be to grow strong on the bike again.

Monday was a bit of a treat, as Dewain took me up to Mt. Washington for a skate ski excursion. Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot of terrain open, but it was sufficient for Dewain to get a good taste of the sport, and it was actually warmer up on the mountain in the snow than it was in town. Not that I can even begin to complain about the weather around here. It's been ~10 degrees and sunny every day. After a few initial mishaps that involved a bruised derriere caused by too-short rental skis, Dewain totally got the hang of skate skiing. If my camera hadn't run out of batteries, I would have photo evidence. Coming home from a long, sunny day of skiing to Judy's home-cooked dinner, I had to wonder how I got so lucky!

Now I just have one more trainer session tonight and a run around Thetis Lake in the morning (my favorite!) before heading back to Spokane. I wouldn't mind staying in this winter training wonderland indefinitely, except that I really miss my Aaron, my friends, co-workers, and pets. Besides, I'm totally out of money, so it's back to the real world for this happy triathlete.

Don't worry Carl, I'll be home tomorrow and I promise to treat you to a bucketful of gut-loaded crickets.

They basically forgot to put it on the truck today

2009-01-13T16:13:00.000-08:00

After yesterdays "adverse weather conditions," I spent another entire day (minus a 16 mile am run) waiting around for the package that UPS forgot to put on the truck today. Below is a copy/paste synopsis of the tracking infomation with my personal comments in purple. Why purple? Not sure. Best read from bottom to top. I welcome anyone who might find a thread of logic in the system and is willing to explain it to me.

Location
Date
Local Time
Description
SEATTLE,WA, US

01/13/2009
3:54 P.M.
THE PACKAGE WAS LEFT IN A UPS FACILITY / FORWARDED TO THE FACILITY IN THE DESTINATION CITY

01/13/2009
5:24 A.M.
OUT FOR DELIVERY (PSYCHE! But we'll wait until 4 pm to admit that
SEATTLE,WA, US it never got on the truck)

01/12/2009
10:00 A.M.
ADVERSE WEATHER CONDITIONS (this is total BS. Unless overcast skies in Seattle)
SEATTLE,WA, US represent adversity)

SEATTLE,WA, US (and back again . . . )
01/11/2009
7:59 P.M.
ARRIVAL SCAN

01/11/2009
7:59 P.M.
ARRIVAL SCAN (still trying to figure out why it went from Seattle to
REDMOND,WA, US Redmond?!)

01/10/2009
7:20 A.M.
DEPARTURE SCAN (wait, where are you going!)
SEATTLE,WA, US

01/09/2009
12:01 A.M.
ADVERSE WEATHER CONDITIONS (It arrived in Seattle at 12:01 am on Friday, but
SEATTLE,WA, US has yet to be delivered 5 days later . . . )

01/08/2009
8:32 P.M.

DEPARTURE SCAN
01/08/2009
6:46 P.M.

ORIGIN SCAN
01/08/2009
4:17 P.M.

PICKUP SCAN
US
01/08/2009
7:24 P.M.
BILLING INFORMATION RECEIVED

Viva FedEx! Boo UPS!

2009-01-12T15:39:00.001-08:00

I've been on a wee road trip these past couple of weeks. It's been going smoothly, for the most part, but there have been a few inevitable hiccups that seem to occur each time I try to leave one location for the next.

Just after New Years (which was a fun one involving a night ski with Robin, John, and Manny and then a pajama clad sled-fest with Phaedra and Shelby), I hit the road. My dad was in Mexico, and in the midst of incessantly falling heavy snow, it was my duty to visit his house periodically to shovel crucial areas. My final shoveling job occurred the night before road trip departure. It was raining when we finished shoveling at 12:30 am, and upon waking at 4:45 am, there were another 7 inches or so of fresh, wet snow. Given the time constraints, I ignored it and headed down the driveway to drop Aaron off for his 6 am flight to San Jose. Coming around the slight bend at the end of the driveway, it became immediately apparently to me that stopping was not going to be an option.

Hiccup #1 : stuck in a snowbank at the bottom of the driveway approximately 0.6 miles into a 2300 mile road trip. Luckily, Aaron had insisted that I bring an avalanche shovel and he proved adept at using it.

20 minutes later we were back on the road, which was scary icy after the previous night's rain. I dropped Aaron off at the airport and carried on down I-90 in terrifying conditions. I saw several cars spin off of the road right in front of me and got briefly stuck again after stopping in the median to ask one crash victim if he was okay. I then allowed him to push me back onto the road. I'm sure that he was grateful for my stopping. Once I was a few hundred miles south, the roads cleared, the sun began to shine, and driving on real pavement for the 1st time in weeks proved to be a real treat.

I am the first to admit to being a summer person. I really enjoy Smartwool and skiing, but more than anything I love long, sunny days, lightweight clothing, bright blue skies and big shady green trees. Driving through Southeastern Washington, Eastern Oregon and Northern Nevada and California in January wouldn't light up the "oh this is so beautiful" parts of my brain on an FMRI but the stark landscape was impressive nonetheless.

Blowing snow between Pendelton and LeGrande, OR.

The roads are finally clearing up!

Northern Nevada near Sunset

Some of the straightest roads I've ever driven

Then, 850 miles later, I arrived in Tahoe around 8:30 p.m. The hilarious part is that I actually beat Aaron in getting there, as his plane was late due to extensive de-icing. Aaron, Noah, and Lily arrived about 15 minutes later and we settled into the rental cabin for the Scott family post-Christmas Christmas. It was a great week. Skate skiing, hard-core sledding, and eating Jim's awesome cooking dominated the agenda. Lily was fantastic, bravely taking on cross country skiing, ice skating, and sledding. She also mastered the all-important life skill of blowing up balloons. The good news is that none of the sledding injuries appear to be permanent.

Hiccup #2. Trying to leave Tahoe without any car keys. It's a long story, but instead of leaving on Thursday morning, as planned, I spent that day frantically trying to find a locksmith, walking into town to fax documents to the car dealership in Spokane to get a key code, pulling my dad out of surgery so that he could do the same, etc. In the end, it resulted in one extra day in sunny Tahoe, an amazing sunset ski along the ridge line at Tahoe-Donner, and a lovely swim in the Trukee Community Pool. I did learn that it's harder to swim at 6600 feet than at 2000.

Next destination: Bend. I really like Bend. The views of the volcanoes from town are spectacular, the downtown is charming, and there is no dearth of exciting outdoor activities in the region. They also have an awesome 50m pool in an aquatic facility that is open to the public year round. Spokane should take notes. The purpose of swinging through town was to attempt to avenge my dismal showing on the mountain bike in last year's winter triathlon national championships. In that race, I was unable to stay on my bike for any longer than 3 consecutive seconds, and I vowed to learn to handle my bike on snow. Instead, I thought about trying to ride my bike in the snow, but threw my hands up in surrender when the shed housing my mtn bike got too snowed in.

There were definitely some positive aspects of this year's race compared to last year's:

1. I arrived on time

2. I practiced mtn biking the day before

3. I deflated my tires

4. I tapered the day before the race by skiing for 2 hours, riding my bike, and swimming.

Well, it was all for naught, because I still got my butt kicked. Last year I led out of the run, but this year I came into T1 in 3rd. There was a super-steep hill at the end, and my legs decided that they weren't really into running up it. Even though I got passed by most of the rest of the elite field on the bike, I stayed on my bike for the most part, and conditions were nasty. The day before it had been cold, dry and the snow was packed, but an inversion overnight caused it to start raining and then the sun came out and turned the snow to slop. 2007 nats all over again. The only real bike-related complication arose when I started to hear my rear tire rubbing against the bike frame. I had endo'd a few times so I assumed that I had knocked something out of joint in doing so. After the race I figured out the real culprit - a non-existent rear skewer. Talk about being prepared to race!

My bad. The trip wasn't a total waste though - I discovered the Westward Ho motel. At $29/night including fridge, microwave, and WiFi, it was a screaming deal.

My other option was the Holiday Motel next door, but it cost $5 more.

Hiccup #3: US Homeland Security. Because my coach lives in Victoria, Canada, going to training camp involves crossing national borders, and I forgot to bring my passport to Tahoe. I had Aaron overnight it to my brother's house in Seattle on Thursday night after he flew home, and according to the tracking number is arrived in Seattle that very night. I had planned to catch an early ferry to Victoria this morning (Monday), so assumed that my passport would arrive in plenty of time. Well, it's Monday night and I'm still sitting in Seattle.

Apparently my passport hasn't been able to make it from the UPS warehouse to my brother's house for the past 4 days due to "adverse weather conditions." That's funny because I am in Seattle, and aside from a bit of cloud cover (it is Seattle, after all), the weather is far from adverse. 50 degrees, no wind or precip, a UPS delivery driver's dream I would imagine. So perfect that a UPS truck drove right past the house today. The more amazingly idiotic aspect of the whole situation is that I am not able to pick up my package from the warehouse because no delivery has been attempted yet. So because UPS won't even try to get my package to me, I can't try to get it from them. Moreover, there is no longer any scheduled delivery date, due the continuing "adverse weather" situation. I love that UPS gets to make up an "act of God" to absolve themselves of the ability to deliver packages as contracted.

Who knows when I'll get to training camp at this rate. I keep looking at the training schedule with a mix of sadness and trepidation. I'm getting there so late at this point that I'm going to be the slow, soft one who forgot (or never learned?) how to swim. And I know that ultimately this is my fault for forgetting my passport (though I'm going to blame homeland security a bit because I don't know that a passport is going to stop a terrorist coming from Victoria), but I heretofore vow to never use UPS again. I know 2 lovely people who work for FedEx, we use FedEx at work, and they've always been great problem solvers when we have issues, and they can't possibly do a worse job than UPS.

A rant. It's been a long day of waiting for the brown truck that never came.

Phillip

2008-12-22T23:40:00.000-08:00

This house is called Phillip. Tim and Rebecca named the house Phillip, and it's a very special house. It's where Aaron lived when we first met. I suppose it was actually where he lived when we second met, because we first met in a bike shop and I buggered back off to New Zealand and blew him off for a year. After Aaron and I second met, Aaron wooed me on Phillip's front porch with his apple tart. At that point, I was too polite to tell him that I don't like pastries. He really won me over when he took my superfluous zucchini and cauliflower from the garden and made delicious concoctions from it while I studied microbiology. That porch was the first place that Aaron and I ever kissed, and I've been known to drag him over there for a smooch on special occasions. Aaron moved all the way across the street, so Phillip's porch is always at our disposal.

For the past few years, Aaron and I have had a tradition of celebrating the solstices. I (the triathlete) am in charge of the summer solstice celebration, since long days and minimal clothing make me happiest. Aaron (the biathlete) is in charge of the winter solstice celebrations, as he is thrilled by long underwear, copious amounts of snow, and cozy fires on frigid nights. I wasn't surprised when I came home from work last night (the winter solstice) to a fairly untraditional but delicious 5 course meal. I wasn't surprised when we went for a walk after dinner in the snow. We walked around Cannon Park and checked out the christmas lights until I began to freeze and whine. I was distracted for a while when we assisted a family recently transplanted from Maui (yikes!) that was stuck in the snow. In the end, there were so many people helping that we all just ended up pushing the stuck car the 2 blocks to their house.

When Aaron told me to join him on Phillip's porch after the walk, I thought he was being sweet and romantic. I didn't know that he was going to ask me to marry him. I was surprised, but it was sweet and I said yes. Actually, I think I said "sure." The stuff of princess dreams, eh?

I suppose I should have been more onto it. I did receive several queries over the past few months: "Are you sure you don't want an engagement ring? You're not just saying that?" My (truthful) answer was no - I don't have any desire to wear a ring, and I think buying one would be a waste of money and resources. Aaron wasn't completely satisfied with that answer, so he superglued (the man loves epoxy) a pebble from the foundation of the now-burned-down bike shop to a simple band. So ladies, if you ever want to check out my "rock," I've really got one. The difficulty that ensued when I tried to replace my mittens post proposal reaffirmed my desire to remain ring-free.

I know that this is a tri blog and not a relationship blog, but I think it's worth mentioning that Aaron actually wanted to do this 6 months ago on the summer solstice, but it was the day before IM Cd'A. Then, he postponed his plans until the equinox, but I was traveling back from training camp in Victoria, so he had to wait another 3 months. Kona would have been a romantic spot for a proposal, but hours of sustained vomiting left me rather cranky. He is one patient triathlete partner. And I sure do love him.

9 posts

2008-12-18T20:44:00.000-08:00

There are officially 9 blog posts between this one and the last one in which I complained about snow. I was actually about to complain about lack of snow last week. It was the day before National Club XC Championships, and a doozy was forcasted. 4-8 inches of snow and bitterly cold temps and winds. What a perfect day for running, ay? Well, the sub-zero temps and 25 mph winds transpired, but not a whole lot on the snow front. Perhaps a couple of inches on the South hill and a mere skiff in the Valley where the race was to take place. And despite my whinging of 9 posts past, I was disappointed in the lack of snow. Mid-December, not enough snow on the mountain to groom for skating, and winter tri nationals less than a month away!

Nonetheless, with the high temp reaching 4 degrees on the mountain (a great improvement over the previous day's -2) Aaron and I took the classic skis out and followed some of the tracks cut by others around the Mt Spokane nordic center. Cutting classic tracks isn't nearly as fun as it is to skate really fast, but it satisfied my need to see snow and sun and participate in a sport that doesn't involve swimming, biking, or running. Plus, I experienced the unique pleasure of having my eyelashes encrusted in ice.

Then, just when I was going to sit down and write a blog about Spokane's tragically snowless state, I noticed that there was a slight chance of snow in the forecast mid-week. A few inches were possible, they said. As predicted, snow was falling steadily when I left for work on Wednesday (my usual 15 minute commute took 50) and with noone coming through the doors all day, my co-workers and I entertained ourselves by watching the snow pile up on our cars. There was at least a foot by the time I left work and the roads were a disaster. This is Spokane - people are supposed to know how to drive in inclement weather, but there are only so many plows in this world and the snow was falling incessantly. I went for a swim after work and watching the snow fall past the window every time I breathed was very cool. The next morning was stunningly beautiful. The snow continued to fall, and we had about 2 feet on the ground already.

The best thing about a city-stopping snowstorm (yes, even the malls were closed, and it's prime holiday shopping season), is the extent to which it brings everyone outside. Even in single digit temperatures, the whole neighborhood was out shoveling. And shoveling and shoveling. It turned out to be a recored-setting storm, with 25 inches in 24 hours at our house. That's my dad (an industrious sort) plowing his driveway (it's a long one) for the umpteenth time.

The worst part of a city-stopping snowstorm? Trying to train. I like to think that I'm pretty hard-core when it comes to running, but it is simply impossible to do so in knee-deep snow. So I tricked myself out in my teal Sorrells left over from my middle school days and Aaron's Carharts. I tucked my sweatshirt into the Carharts to make them fit (and to make myself look extra cool) and trucked into town to go to the gym. I love that pedetrians completely take over the streets when cars can't pass. There were people out snowshoeing and xc skiing, and I even saw a couple of snowboarders carving down Monroe street. Regretably, the storm took its toll on the gym, and with a single person staffing the place, the pool was closed :( I did manage to get in a decent treadmill workout (yawn) and trudged back up the South Hill to make dinner.

The following day was another snow day, so Aaron and I headed back up to Mt. Spokane where some preliminary grooming had taken place. It wasn't quite set up enough for skating, and my classic skis were slow (think I need to lose weight or shorten my wax pocket a bit), but it was absolutely gorgeous. I love that mountain in all seasons, but winter is particularly special. We didn't finish skiing until after dark. A fine day indeed.

Now I'm at my dad's house in a desperate attempt to facilitate a run outside on traffic-free country roads that are still decently packed tomorrow morning, but it looks like we're in for more snow tonight. In fact the only pictures on the 10-day weather forecast are snowflakes. I'd like it to be known that I'm not complaining about snow in this post. Lots of cold, feathery, light snow is perfect for holiday cheer (and for skiing). If it's still doing this in April, I'll be writing something reminiscint of 9 blogs ago, but now it's time for celebration. Even though my ability to run outdoors is presently compromised, yay for snow! I can't wait for my brother and sister to come home so we can do some ultimate sledding (full-contact sled racing down my dad's driveway). Aaron and Bri have joined in the action in years past, and I fully expect optimal conditions this year.

The videos

2008-12-05T09:29:00.000-08:00

Very funny grand canyon videos. 1st up . . . "Alice cookin' beans she's got the hot dogs on."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flAYSNIRILI

Dee's modified version

http://www.thepenalcolony.com/familyvids/shelbycooper.mp4

2008-11-27T09:29:00.000-08:00

I pray that no potential sponsors will read the following photo essay of my IM AZ week. It seems that I am presently incapable of taking any photo opportunity seriously. With a bit of time to kill in the Phoenix airport, I'm trying to think of a cohesive way to recap the previous weeks events. I suppose it started in this very place last Wednesday, when fellow athlete Miranda Aldritt was kind enough to pick me up en route from Borrego Springs and share her homestay with me. With over 90 professional athletes registered for the race, the homestay situation was supersaturated, but I was really lucky that the Norquists had extra space for me and that Miranda so generously shared that space. Miranda did the race in April, so she was incredibly helpful in the days leading to the race in terms of negotiating annoying race logistics.

We trained a bit (including one beautiful evening ride through paradise valley) ate a lot, attended all the requisite meetings, and just when it was time to do nothing else except get nervous, my all-star support team of Phaedra and Shelby showed up. My pre-race mindset was so remarkably different than it has been before any other ironman this season. I knew that I could be strong over the distance, but didn't know how much speed I would have after a lackluster 5 weeks of training since Kona. So I didn't worry about it, and instead I got in a hard-core ab workout laughing hysterically with S&P for hours on end. In addition to the laughing there was a bit of dancing.

I have no idea what to call the following move, though it probably deserves a patent . . .

After a short and restless night's sleep, race morning dawned and it still seemed a bit surreal that I was about to do an Ironman. It really didn't seem like a big deal. The real question was whether Phaedra and Shelby were prepared for the long day of iron-fan duties that awaited them. It was a reasonably chilly, dark morning, but after the heat-related disaster that was Kona, I relished the cooler weather. The water was about 63 degrees and calm. Perfect. Everything went smoothly in transition and then it was time to jump in the water. I got in a decent warm-up, given that we were only allowed in the water 10 minutes before the start and I lined myself up amongst the enormous pro field. It was awesome treading water in the dark below the Mill St Bridge with the Killers playing over the sound system. Linsey had her sea turtle in Kona and I had the Killers in AZ. I finally had the swim that I've been believing myself capable of for the past year. Granted, the conditions were calm and I actually had people to swim with, but I was still psyched when I exited the water in 1:02. A 4 minute swim PR. I'll take it.

Tyler Stewart exited T1 right in front of me, and I figured that if anyone knew how to pace well and ride oneself back into a race, it would be the female world record holder over the distance. I positioned myself about 20 meters back (there was NO WAY I was about to risk a drafting penalty in this race) and followed her lead. It seemed a bit slow at the start, but it always does, and I usually pay the price later in the day. About a quarter of the way through the 1st lap, Tyler had a water bottle cage fly off, so my little pacing plan was derailed while she got some mechanical help.

At that point I figured I'd better hold my pace for the rest of the bike, lest everyone following online shake their heads in disappointment (Manny). That wasn't my real motivation, but it did cross my mind a few times. The bike just got easier throughout the day as the winds that were challenging during the first lap actually died down and changed directions. Also absent were the hoards of age-group men that swarmed around me in Kona. We only had a 10 minute head start, but given that my swim wasn't completely atrocious, I was able to stay ahead of most of the age-groupers and keep a safe distance from all other racers. I almost expected the marshals to motor by and give me a gold star (or a 4 minute advantage?) for playing so gosh darn fairly. It was the same smugness that comes when I cruise by a cop car going under the speed limit. "Aren't I so good officer?" I knew that I had worked my way up the field, but had no idea where I actually was in the standings. At one point I tried to estimate how far behind Joanna Zeiger I was as she biked by in the opposite direction, but the only landmark by which to judge her position was a lone saguaro cactus. Needless to say, I didn't locate the very same cactus on my return. 5:09 bike split - my best ever. Yes, this course is way faster than Coeur d'Alene, but I'm celebrating it nonetheless.

My proudest moment of the race? T2. 55 seconds. I wasn't particularly trying to win that split, but I'm pretty sure it was one of the race's fastest. I credit my new silver Zoot shoes. Without the need to wear socks or tie laces, why dilly dally in the change tent? Ultimately, T2 was the difference between 6th and 7th place, so I won't underestimate the value of Ironman transitions ever again.

The run was scary. I saw S & P just out of transition and they informed me that I was in 8th. As much as it stunk, the Hawaii run was almost easy because I was already doing so terribly that going slowly wasn't going to change a whole lot. The effective difference between a 4:10 and 4:30 run split isn't as great as the difference between a 3:10 and a 3:30. Standing in 8th place (in the money) meant that I couldn't screw up. I was passed in the 1st 4 miles by 2 very quickly moving women, but I decided to stay conservative and hope to pick off a few women in return. Around mile 3, my calves started cramping - not a good sign. I'm not usually a cramper, but the cramps may have been due to some nutritional dealings that I won't go into. Also, the Arizona run course was predominantly on concrete with a few short trail sections, and I've been running almost exclusively on trails for the past 6 weeks. I figured that if I was STILL training for an IM after Kona, then I would do it on my terms, but if I do this race again, I'll certainly do more running on pavement and concrete.

Concrete is very hard. By 13 miles my legs were completely shattered, but I had a constant internal dialogue going on. It was really exciting. It went something like this: "left foot right food left foot right foot . . . " Yep. My energy levels were fantastic, but my legs were like rubber. There were plenty of times that I wanted to slow down, but I reminded myself of all of the kick-ass training sessions I had back in August. That training didn't make itself evident in Kona as I had intended it to, but I had still done it. Those rides and runs happened so long ago that it was easy forget that I had in fact worked hard for this race (because I certainly didn't do so during the 6 week Kona - AZ interlude). With a few miles to go, people were telling me that I was only 1 minute behind the girl in front and that I was gaining. Oh great. So I had to speed up a bit and ended up catching her at the very place where she had passed me in the 1st loop. It turns out that it was the 24 year-old's 1st ever IM, so I imagine she'll be a real force when she figures out how to pace a little better.

The finish happened rather abruptly and that was that. Not a culmination of a season specifically focused on this race nor a life-changing event, but a solidly executed IM, a paycheck, and certain evidence of progress in the sport. As much as I know that bad races happen, Kona shattered me a little, and Arizona was the necessary antidote. I'm excited about having a productive off-season now, whereas before I just wanted an off-season. I have some real ideas about what I need to do to get better results next year, but before this race I thought maybe I'd need to start all over again in square one with a brutally honest self-assessment. I could go on, but in the end it was a worthwhile experience that I shared with two of my most wonderful friends and a vast support network following online. I never expected so many people to care about my progress, but I'm touched by everyone who does.

Now for the fun part - a 3 day post-IM road trip with Shelby through Northern Arizona and to the Grand Canyon. 1st stop, Sedona.

Not bad . . .

Pretty awesome actually. Unfortunately, Sedona was a little out of our price range, so we headed farther afield to Flagstaff. Flagstaff is a decidedly cool town, and at 8000 ft, I found myself gasping for air when I tried to hold a conversation and walk at the same time. Strenuous stuff, I know. To bring myself further back to reality, I tried to jog across a busy street in Flagstaff to avoid oncoming cars. I was completely incapable of even one running step and a brilliant idea occurred to me. A true test of IM fitness would involve stopping every racer with one mile left in the marathon and force them to run the last mile 24 hours later. I'm quite sure that I would have finished well behind where I did.

I have never, ever, ever been so sore. It made for some interesting Grand Canyon adventures. Instead of an epic decent deep into the canyon, Shelby and I had to content ourselves with a gentle rim walk. Even thought the rim walk paralleled the road, it wasn't without some seriously technical sections. The following picture shows a particularly gnarly section and the deftness with which I descended it by going backwards. Sign me up for Everest please.

It turns out that Shelby and I both hate posing for pictures solo so we resorted to taking cryptic shots of one another. Shelby enjoying a beer at the canyon's edgeShelby snagging an uber-flattering shot of me laughing at something (probably a fart joke)....

Finally, we decided to set up a self timer shot, but getting me from camera to scenic spot in 12 seconds proved to be a challenge and Shelby was too short to set up the camera in the tree. Does it look like she's trying to save me from going over the edge or trying to throw me over here?

If you want to read an eloquent and genuine recap of visiting the Grand Canyon, see Liz Fedofsky's blog ( http://elizabethfedofsky.blogspot.com/2008/11/canyon-grand.html ). If you want to see why Shelby and I kept yelling "Bobby . . . Cindy" over the canyon edge, watch the following Youtube video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flAYSNIRILI and then Shelby's brother's special edit here.

Actually, I can't seem to load the video in mind. . . Keep watching this space and I'll work on it. It's really funny, I promise.

p.s. Shelby was actually carrying around an empty RedBull can, not a beer. A beer would have been funnier though.

quick update

2008-11-24T06:40:00.000-08:00

I woke up at 5:30 after 4 hours of sleep to eat a leftover burrito in bed and still haven't managed to get back to sleep. 6th place in IM Arizona yesterday (9:45:59), which was way better than I had expected with a pro field so large and deep. Can something be better than expected when you have no expectations to begin with? Regardless, it was certainly better than I deserved, given the fervency with which I didn't train for this one. I suppose going in to a race fat and happy is often better than going in overtrained and tired. I also think that my mental status was greatly improved by the presence of my elfin support crew, Phaedra and Shelby. I spent Saturday laughing so hard that I was worried about becoming dehydrated due to tearage. That resulted in my thinking about and being anxious about the race on maybe 2 brief occasions. I'll go into details later, but just want to thank everyone who sent txts and e-mails of support and congratulations. Now it's off to the Grand Canyon. Che emozionante!

October 11, 2008

2008-10-23T20:17:00.000-07:00

The day after the race, the Ali'i Tropical Hideaway clan (Coopers and Debenhams) headed to Hapuna beach to swim with beautiful fish and to meet with the Nelsons and Piccicis. It was a typical post-ironman gathering. Hideous tan-lines abounded (mine mostly), and small talk was dominated by total race digestion, complaints about the weather, and personal moments of triumph and tragedy. I lamely tried to explain away my 4:30something run split, still confused as to what exactly went wrong. Sam proffered my favorite explanation:

"Well Coops, if I were you, I wouldn't have even raced."
"Huh?"
"Well, your number was obviously terrible. 139?! First of all, it starts with a 13, and if you add all the numbers together, you get 13 again!"

So nutrition/pacing/heat issues/etc. didn't foil my race after all, it was just my number. It's so easy! Unfortunately I don't believe in superstition, and the reality is that I'm responsible for what did and didn't happen in Kona this year. Besides, my number in Sooke was 1309 and I had a great time there. Just to prove to myself that the whole 13 thing is BS, I booked seat number 13C on my flight to Phoenix next month. It was one of the few aisle seats that didn't incur an additional charge - go figure.

Before getting into the gritty details of race day, I should first mention how awesome it was to return to Kona. I got in on the evening of Saturday the 4th, with less of a delay than most others I know. It was so deliciously familiar and exciting. Picked up the Ford Focus rental and headed straight to my favorite Thai restaurant for veggie curry before checking into the Seaside for the night. I was excited. I knew that the time change meant I would wake up super early the next morning and get in pre-dawn swim with fish and coral and turtles and (hopefully) dolphins.

Everything contrasted with last year's experience wherein I arrived after dark in a foreign landscape with no idea where I was going and really no idea why I was bothering to race on zero fitness. Last year, I was really not excited for race day. This year, I couldn't wait. Last year, I was the recipient of the amazing hospitality of Rick and Karen Rubio who wholeheartedly took me in an introduced me to the town and its people to an extent that I never would have known otherwise. This year I was initially flying solo and doing so with a naiive confidence.

I wasn't really alone though. The next several days were spent training with the Lifesport Kona camp, picking up a continual stream of friends and family from the airport (including fellow athlete Aubre), and running into friends and acquaintances everywhere. In fact every errand, training session, meal, etc took way more time than I allotted for such activities because I always ended up talking to someone ad largum.

And then it was race day. Aubre and I got up at 4:00 am to eat breakfast, have a moment of pre-race calm, and take the Ali'i shuttle into town. Aubre's enthusiasm is contagious and we both headed for transition with high hopes and focused excitement. Body marking and setting up T1 was smooth and easy. I got a pre-race hug from a body marker named Lu who was Shelby's boss back in her skydiving days. It was sweet. I then found myself with nothing left to do. I usually rush around until the absolute last minute with a panic that I carry through the swim start, for better or for worse. With all of the pre-race details taken care of, I plopped myself down next to Craig Alexander to keep my feet up until my swim warm up. Why not begin the day seated next to an incredibly talented athlete, I thought. Poor guy had cameras in his face the whole time. He's obviously good at dealing with the pressure.

As per my coach's insistence, I did a much longer swim warm-up than I used to do (which was basically none), and was feeling pretty good in the water in my hot new 20" Speedzoot. Right before I headed to the start, a giant turtle swam underneath me. Linsey wasn't far away, and I waved her over. It was so peaceful floating over huge turtle right before the insane beginning of what would be a long day of racing. Katya joined us to gawk, and we all surfaced grinning. "It means we're going to have a good swim," Linsey said. Linsey did have a good swim. In fact, she had a good race. 5th place is pretty darn good, I'm told :)

I found a good start position towards the inside, but because the pro start is so much smaller than the mass start,, crowding really isn't an issue and it's much better to seed oneself aggressively. My start was the best I've ever had and after pushing 200 m hard, I settled in with a good group of about 12 people. We worked well together, bu there was the inevitable fighting for feet and more contact than I like. As swimmers battled me for a draft, I kept dropping back to get on the feet of the aggressor. We made it around the far turn buoys pretty uneventfully, and just after we turned to head home I felt like our group slowed substantially. I looked up to see what happened to realize the the swimmer whose feet I was on had lost the group. Panic set in and I tried to catch the group, but it was all for naught and they steadily pulled away until out of sight. It was the two of us for a while until another group of swimmers caught us. Yay! I repeatedly tried to cut into the paceline of swimmers, but, understandably, people weren't too eager to let me steal their drafts. Fair enough, I thought, and tacked myself onto the end of the paceline. Bad idea. Not 100 m later, the exact same thing happened, and the person in front of me dropped off the back of the pack. I didn't do a very good job of learning from the first experience! I stayed on her feet for a while before realizing that we'd probably be better off I just sucked it up and pulled us in. So I did. And I was really, really angry with myself. 1:10 in the water. Four minutes slower than last year, and I know I'm a better, fitter swimmer.

I at least had confidence in my ability to ride a bike. Of all 3 disciplines, I've improved the most in cycling this summer, and I was sure that with smart pacing I would ride back into the mix. I'd been dealing with an SI/piriformis issue for a while, and was expecting an uncomfortable ride, but discomfort shouldn't slow a person down in a race. My focus for the first 10 miles through town was to get my heart rate to settle and not get caught up in the insanity of riding through town on fresh legs. I think I did a good job of that. As people stood to power up Palani, I stayed seated and felt like a dork as I lazily pedaled up to the Queen K. There weren't many distinctive moments during the ride. I stayed pretty focused on not over-riding, as can be my tendency, and spent a great deal of time dropping back and dropping back and dropping back as huge packs of age-group men streamed by. It was frustrating to have my rhythm continually broken by trying to follow the rules on the crowded course, but I trusted that all that dropping back was better than a 4 minute drafting penalty. There were motorcycles everywhere.

Conditions on the bike course were much tougher than last year. Granted, last year my goal was to survive rather than to race, but the heat and winds this year were much more intense. I was SO thirsty the whole ride. Normally, I have to force myself to eat and drink when riding, but on this day, all I wanted was ice water all the time. I knew that the gut can only absorb so much fluid, especially in extreme heat and under extreme physical exertion, but it was hard to refrain from constantly chugging water. I supplemented with Gatorade and my tried and true nutrition plan of a GU every 20 minutes. I'm not sure what stimulated such a strong thirst reflex, as I thought I had done a good job of hydrating all week prior to the race.

With screaming glute and a raging thirst, I put my head down and ground through what for me is the toughest part of the bike - the last 30 miles along the Queen K. A super strong quarter wind, lava everywhere, and an SI joint that was less than thrilled at the thought of another 1.5 hours in aero position. I was proud of how focused and positive I was able to stay, especially now that the field had spread out and fewer AG men passed.

With less than 4 miles to go, I approached another cyclist who had slowed on the hill. I moved left 2 meters to pass him (pros are not allowed to slipstream like AGers are). I probably moved to within about 8 m (10 m is the legal distance) when he sped up. I decided that I wasn't worth killing myself with so few miles left to ride and moved back to the right and abandoned my effort to pass. I heard a motorcycle behind me the whole time, but didn't think I would get in trouble, because I hadn't actually moved in to the draft zone, and if I had, I would have barely done so. Besides, there is the rule (no riding within a 10x2 m zone, 20 seconds to complete a pass once initiated) and the spirit of the rule (don't gain an unfair advantage by slipstreaming behinds someone), and I certainly hadn't violated that latter. Nonetheless, I violated the former and got pegged. My first ever red card. Did I deserve it? Probably, I broke the passing rule. Had I gained an unfair advantage? Certainly not, but everything I've learned suggests that arguing with the referees is pointless, so despite being devastated, I tried to make it a positive experience. I would be able to spend the 4 minutes in the penalty tent cooling down, getting medical assistance for my bleeding heels, stretching and fueling . . . what a joy!

Part of me wished that I had just sat in the middle of those giant packs of men during the ride out to Hawi - the ones that the motorcyclists just told to "break it up," because it's too hard for them to single out and penalize everyone. Herd mentality. At least then I would have felt genuinely deserving of the penalty. Instead, I was really discouraged. Especially when I got to the penalty tent and we weren't allowed to eat, drink, go to the bathroom, get medical assistance, or do anything useful. So I swung the stopwatch in circles and listened with great compassion as everyone told their drafting sob stories. We were a grumpy bunch, and we were obviously all innocent :) I really do understand that the "spirit" of the rules can really only come about by enforcing the technicalities, it's was just a tough lesson to learn. 5:29 for the bike. 11 minutes faster than last year, and average HR was 4 bpm lower than Cd'A. It was still slower than I had anticipated, but maybe I'm just crazy.

After the penalty I thought I would be really refreshed and that my heart rate would have calmed down for the start of the run. My goal was to really build through the run, even if it meant running 9 minute miles at the start while my HR settled. Running up Palani out of transition I saw so many familiar faces. Aaron, Cassy, Andy, Bri, Manny, Teri, Tanya, Heather G. . . . I wanted to explain to them that it was okay that I was so slow, I was going to speed up later and pick off all of the women who went out too fast and suffered as a result. Dropping down to Palani, going slower and slower, and the HR just kept rising. Run slower, HR rises. Repeat over and over. By mile 2 I was running 9:30s and feeling increasingly awful. Then my stomach started to cramp and heave. Oh boy. A bit of undigested bagel. Really?! That was like almost 9 hours ago! Mile 3 aid station and all I want is ice water, but should probably try to get some Gatorade down. Heave it all up. I wanted ice water. Shuffle to the next aid station and go through the exact same thing. Who said that insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?

Did I mention that it was really effing hot? The clouds that had shaded and cooled Kona all week were absent on race day, and I was roasting. Around mile 5 I faced my greatest fear. Walking. "The more you walk, the more you will walk" is advice that I really believe in, but my stomach and lethargy left no other option. I thought that if I walked long enough to get my HR down, I might start to absorb some nutrition and get back into a groove. No dice. Until about mile 14, I settled into a eat, walk, jog, vomit routine. Then the chicken broth came out. I'm willing to put aside my vegetarianism for chicken broth in the latter stages of an IM. The stuff is magic. By mile 16, the vomiting had stopped and I was actually running 8:30s down to the energy lab. I had known from mile 2 that my competitive race was over, but it finally became evident at that point that I would at least be able to finish the event. And even though I had very little to give, I wanted it to be finished ASAP, because I was really not having a fun day.

Coming out of the energy lab I was happy to see Dewain's txt message "Run like Ashenafi." I smiled for the first time all day, even though I'm quite sure Ashenafi would be killing me if he were racing. I even found a buddy to run with for several miles until the 22 mile marker when I was abruptly stopped by another wave of nausea. I am amazed and disgusted by how much coke, chicken broth, and ice water, I had consumed in the previous 6 miles. It gave me a whole lot of respect for my stomach capacity. But that was my last puke of the day. Even after a slow, discourging, painful day, 4 miles seemed like no problem. They were slow and ugly miles, but I got them done. And I ran down Ali'i drive towards the finish line with a whole new respect for the course and the conditions. Run time: 4:34. Yup.

I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out why I finished that race, and ultimately, I think I was too scared to quit. Scared to learn that I might be the kind of person who chooses the easy way out. Scared of how disappointed I would be at the awards ceremony the next night, knowing full well that I would be disappointed regardless. I was scared about what others would think. Rachel Ross, who flew by on the run and encouraged me to (briefly) run with her. Liz Fedofsky, who rode her bike along the course and made me stick to it. The random spectators and aid station volunteers who watched me vomit and then offered the glib, albeit truthful "keep going, you can do it." Kona kicked a lot of people's butts' that day, and a lot of pros were smart, pulling out of the race and saving their bodies for Florida and Arizona. I honestly don't think any less of them. From a career standpoint, there is absolutely no reason to beat oneself up on a course that won't offer any prizemoney or glory, especially when a DNF will look better on the resume than an 11:23. But then there were the pros like Belinda Granger, one of the fastest girls in the sport, who trotted down the Queen K chatting to friend. I saw Hillary Biscay ask a walking male AGer to run with her "I'm not going very fast," she offered. And it was inspirational to see Rutger Beke finish 3rd after walking the marathon last year.

We all have good days and bad. It's what keeps sport interesting and passionate. Bad days aren't fun, but they're amazing learning experiences and they make me truly appreciate the good ones. I'm going into IM AZ with one motto: "have fun!" Granted, having fun for me usually involves being competitive, but this one is really just the icing on the cake. It can't be my "A" race because that happened rather unsuccessfully on October 11th, but I can run with a smile on my face.

These are the only race photos so far. When I get my act together, I'll show pictures of Hawaii and my lovely family and friends.

Swim

Bike

Run, Walk, Shuffle, Puke, Scowl

Bike boxes make great tables in long airport queues

Support

2008-09-29T20:39:00.000-07:00

Kona has come and gone, and the day was one that I would rather forget (except that forgetting would preclude learning from it, and there was so much to learn from the experience). I'm not going to get into details yet because I want to finish this post that I started before I left. Even though my race wasn't what I expected it would be, the people who helped me to get there are just as amazing as they were 2 weeks ago when my hopes were high.

From Monday, September 29:

Che giornata! I love Mondays. Typically it is my day off of training and rarely do I have to work. Aside from the obligatory class time and homework, today was a beautiful, sunny blank slate of a day. Last minute Kona preparations were in order, as was a giant pile of soaking laundry (I've been overdressing in an attempt to heat acclimate). My first order of business was to address a wee issue with my bike, so I called Robin, my boss at Fitness Fanatics, for a consult, and she immediately got to work and on the phone with Scott. Lo and behold, I have a new Scott Plasma frame headed my way on Wednesday. It doesn't leave a lot of time to get all of my components switched over and then packed up for Kona, but I am so lucky for the opportunity to head into this competition with a brand new frame and the peace of mind that my machine will be in perfect working order. I spent the entire walk home from the bus stop (all 10 blocks of it) thinking about all of the people who have stepped up to help me get to Kona happy, well trained, nourished, and just shy of broke. Now that no one reads this blog anymore on account of my delinquent posting, I figured I would take the opportunity to thank my supporters. This isn't an insincere sponsor-pushing segment - it's a thank you to the people responsible for the services and products upon which I depend.

The goodwill of others today wasn't expended in the morning's bike lobbying. I abandoned the Cataldo Cougars (the elementary xc team that I help to coach) in the middle 0f their time trials this afternoon for a last minute PT appointment with Mike Lauffer at B&B Physical Therapy. I went to several physical therapists last summer in a desperate attempt to heal my unwieldy knee, and finally found a gem in Bill Codd at B&B. Ever since I started going there, I've found the entire staff to be helpful, interesting, and best of all, healing. I'm remarkably fortunate to have their support. The best part is that is was fun. Not a modifier traditionally associated with PT, I know. Even as Mike had his elbow lodged squarely in my burning piriformis, I chatted about racing, training, ice baths and Moms in Motion with Mike, Bill (runner extraordinnaire and enthusiast), Lanaia (Bill's protege and also a stellar runner), and Kirsten (all around triathlete stud who runs the local Moms in Motion chapter). Sometime Bill has me close to tears with his crazy core strengthening workouts, but I still chalk it up as good, clean fun.

After PT it was off to the Spokane Club for a sauna session. This was not so fun, but I'm still trying to get my body used to heat. The Spokane Club is the nicest gym in town and I get to go there! The only downside is that I spend way too much time lingering in the locker rooms because they are so nice. Given that my old gym was closed for reconstruction all summer and that the public pools were only available when I was at work, being able to swim anytime at the Spokane Club has been a lifesaver (triathlon saver?). The athletic director Jerrod Crowley lined up some great triathlon training clinics throughout the summer where I was able to "earn" my membership and meet a lot of the members. It was really fun to see more people get involved in triathlon and to get them really enthusiastic about the sport. My thanks go to Jerry O'Neill who lobbied for my membership and sponsored me as a new member.

The two other local businesses who have offered endless support and encouragement are the Metabolic Institute and Runners Soul. The Metabolic Institute offers all kinds of metabolic testing (VO2 max, lactate threshold, resting metabolic rate, etc), and nutritional analysis and counseling. They have make themselves endlessly available to me and never cease to send good luck wishes before big competitions.

Curt, the owner of Runners Soul, was probably my first ever "sponsor," and I'm sure I'm not the only local athlete who can make that claim. He is perhaps the most involved small business owner in the area. Most of the things he does for the community I only learn about in roundabout ways. Curt donates shoes to underprivileged children and teens for high school cross country, track, and Bloomsday. He has a microphone in hand at most local road races and triathlons announcing the finishers as they cross the line. I've seen him out hoofing the streets setting up the BRRC race courses. He has a fleet of Spokane Chiefs and Spokane Indians tickets that he donates to local schools and charities. He sponsors our local NPR stations and heavens knows how many schools and individual athletes he supports. He's even helping our women's xc team (the Spokane Swifts) as we prepare for the national xc team championships in December.

Of course no thank you list would be complete without including my amazing friends and family. Thanks to my dad who unwittingly paid for my first year's worth of triathlon entry fees with absolutely no idea what was to come from the innocent little pastime. If I'm thanking him for paying for things, I should probably also include his essentially paying for my entire life prior to my financial semi-independence. My dad also does lots of cool things like toting my gear to his house on Lake Coeur d'Alene so I can ride my bike there and sometimes he drops off his garden fresh potatoes, tomatoes, grapes, zucchini, raspberries, blueberries, snowpeas, and green beans on my doorstep. He also takes me out to dinner at Gordy's, which is so yummy. And he loves me, which is a good quality in a dad :)

I wouldn't know where to start thanking my mom. She bestowed upon me not only her mitochondrial DNA, but also a competitive spirit and is responsible for probably every ounce of me that is a good human being. She cried when I announced that I would like to compete as a professional triathlete someday (she thought it would be a waste of a brain), but I'm pretty sure that she would be proud. I'm definitely sure that every single day I wish she was still here. And I promise to use my brain.

My brother and sister have shaped me more than anyone else on earth. I am at my most primal state of goofiness with them, and am occasionally surprised at how similar our mannerisms and facial expressions are, even after long periods apart. Andy is one of the more enthusiastic people I have ever known and has driven to Coeur d'Alene for all of my ironmans. He's the exuberant guy with the video camera. Andy's wife Bri is now a triathlete as well and he still manages to be enthusiastic about sport. Cassy is a way cooler version of me + a bit of hippy. Among the many ways she enriches my life is her passion for and interest in music. If I'm ever in a new artist drought, I can count on Cass to introduce me to something worth listening to.

The friends. Phaedra and Shelby warrant special mention as my most ardent supporters (and believers). They deserve a post unto itself. Troy was a most excellent riding companion this summer, but his wife Eve is perhaps even cooler. Morgan, Jim, Holly, Robin and Manny at work are the best people I have ever worked with. I genuinely enjoy all of their company, and can't wait to see how Morgan and Manny do in IM next year. Katie and Conrad abandoned me for Colorado, but I forgive them so long as they come back some day. Roger Thompson and his wife Jessi are absolute staples in our local tri community, and I owe Roger a great deal in the moral support and model athlete department. Annie was the first pro triathlete I ever knew, and I still call on her regularly when I need to bounce ideas, frustrations, or excitement off on somebody. Annie knows the ropes and has a wicked sense of humor to boot. Aubre is my idol. She is the most contagiously friendly and good person that I know, and she also happens to be the most naturally athletic friend I have. The Sullivans are my second family and people that I know I can count on for anything. This includes one particularly frustrating ride through a scary electrical storm last spring. Aaron and my dad were working and there was lightening everywhere, so Julianne and Camrynne drove out to Spangle to collect my wet muddy self and bicycle from underneath a railroad overpass. The homestays. The Antonneaus in Racine and Dewain and Judy in Victoria. My "away" races were so enriched by having these families to stay with, and I think I've made longtime friends in doing so. Coach Dan proved himself a worthy friend as he listened repeatedly to my teary post-race digestion with endless calm and reassurance. Oh, he heard a bit of it during the race as well - when he passed me. The same goes for Coaches Paul and Mark and the rest of the Lifesport crew who let me hang out with them all week even as I transformed from excited, happy Haley to disappointed, teary Haley. I really appreciate the support.

Then of course, there is Aaron. In an attempt at IM redemption, or perhaps just an attempt to do some justice for the months of uninjured, quality training I spent leading up to Kona, I signed up to do Ironman Arizona on November 23. I felt it necessary to check with Aaron before I registered, because I understand that training for and competing in ultra-distance events is physically and emotionally taxing in addition to being seriously time-consuming. Aaron has never given me any indication that he begrudges any of that, but I wanted to make sure that he wasn't festering. To the contrary, he fully supported my decision to do the race, and he continues to be the best possible teammate I could have. He is my best friend, and I could get a lot sappier, but I don't want to embarrass him. All I'm going to say is that I realize more and more each day how lucky we are.

I'll try to post a race report soon, and I'll also try to keep the blog more up-to-date as Arizona approaches. Whoever is left reading at this point . . . thanks.

Racine's Got Spirit!

2008-08-18T14:11:00.000-07:00

In keeping with my trend of tardy race reports, I suppose it's time to give a recap of the Spirit of Racine, a race that I have wanted to do for several years. A couple of weeks before Ironman Cd'A, I went ahead and booked my ticket, as the fares I had been watching for months continued to climb. As a side note, I was actually really excited to take the train to this race, but Amtrak turned out to be equally expensive and it would have taken two full days to get there and back. I think the train would have come out marginally cheaper in the end if the $100 each way to take my bike on Northwest Airlines were considered, but then I wouldn't have gotten such a yummy thai burrito in the Minneapolis airport. Talk about fusion. I'm always tempted to lie when the customer service agent checking me in asks if it's a bike I'm travelling with. I once countered with "what if it's not?" only to receive an icy glare from an obviously unamused ticket agent. This time I just asked if there was anything else that warranted a $100 fee, and I learned that windsurfing equipment is equally reviled by the airline industry as are bicycles. Am I silly to believe that a completely manageable 40 lb bike box is less cumbersome than a windsurfing sail?

All of which is irrelevant to the Spirit of Racine. . . This race is awesome. I knew absolutely nothing about Racine, Wisconsin before going there. Randomly, I got seated across the airplane isle from a former pro-triathlete who knew all about the race and my competition, and we swapped race stories for most of the flight, which was fun. My homestay, Jenny, picked me up from the airport and even stopped at the grocery so I could pick up my oats, raisins, and soymilk for the weekend. Jenny's sister Kris is a 2x Ironman triathlete who actually raced in Coeur d'Alene this year, and I'm bummed that I didn't know her when she was in this area. Kris and her husband Dan volunteered their home to Aussie pro Gavin Scott and let the homestay director know that her sister (Jenny) would be happy to take an athlete as well. And that's how I ended up in an amazing house with Jenny, her husband Chris, and their two fantastic kids Nick and Libby.

Libby, Jenny, and Nick

Perhaps, for some, the details of the race are more riveting than the particulars of my accomodation, but I mention all of this, because there is no way to actually quantify how immensely enhanced my experience of the race was by these families. I had wanted to do this race last year, and I imagine I would have spent as little time in Wisconsin as possible to avoid accruing accommodation costs. I would have traveled alone, picked up my packet, done the event, and thought "cool, I did that" as I shuttled my rental car back to the airport. I'm sure I would have liked it, because it's a great event, but I wouldn't have felt attached to it. This race experience was entirely different. I got to spend Saturday with Jenny, Kris, and Gavin, checking out the race venue and playing with the kids (in addition to Nick and Libby, Kris has 3 fantastic children).

Libby and Kris in Kris's most awesome screened in porch

Because Kris, Jenny, Chris, Gavin and I were all doing the race, getting to the race venue the next morning was supremely slick. I just sipped tea, read the paper and listened to the birds while I waited on the porch for Kris to pick me up early on race morning. We made our way down to the transition in the fog, and eagerly waited a water temp report. 55 degrees the announcer said.What?! I hadn't even brought my neoprene cap because it was mid-July. I set up my transition area trying to avoid all of the water that had accumulated into puddles during the overnight rainstorm. The porta-potty lines were an absolute fright, especially given that we were expected to additionally walk a mile down the beach to the race start. I started to panic about getting to the start on time, but I needn't have worried because the race was on a 15 minute rolling delay due to the fog. The rolling delay turned into an hour and as we waited on the far end of the beach for the go-ahead I started to get really hungry! I was very strangely relaxed, however. The women's pro field was pretty small, so it was a good chance to meet some of my competitors, including ZOOT teammate Kelly Handel who had a great race. I was a bit worried about my lack of anxiety, as the last time that happened, I had a lackluster race (Wildflower).

The swim start was really good for me. A few dolphin dives in the spectacularly clear, shallow (and CHILLY) waters of Lake Michigan, and I set out for the far buoy. The field immediately broke up with the 3 fast swimmers (Kelly, Becky, and Lauren) leaving me and the others in the dust. I hung out with Kim Dunker for a short while, but we got separated in the fog. It was bizarre - a point-to-point swim paralleling the shore in very shallow water, but impossible nonetheless to find the buoys in the fog. At one point Kim started swimming back towards shore, and I followed her thinking that perhaps she saw a buoy (because heavens knows I didn't see one). Finally, I swam over to a paddler and asked him where the buoy was. He pointed vaguely in one direction and I went that way, still not seeing the marker. For the rest of the race I stopped at every paddler I saw and asked him/her to point out the next buoy. It was a good strategy, I think. It didn't take long for the elite men in the next wave to swallow me up and provide some sort of sighting opportunity, even though they seemed as confused and spread out over the course as I did. Even though the fog was thick, I'm glad the race started when it did, or I would have been too hungry to race.

It was a long transition out of the water across the amazing white sand beach of Racine. I had stupidly seen the "EXIT" sign right near my transition spot, and so I didn't clip my bike shoes onto my pedals. I figured it would be quicker to put my shoes on first and then to run the 3 steps out of transition and then get immediately clipped in. It turned out that it was the run exit sign near my transition spot, so I got the run the entire distance of the very large transition area in my bike shoes. Brilliant. I also got to wrestle the plastic bag off of my bike seat that I had securely tied on the night before to keep my gel seat from becoming completely water logged. Minor details.

Onto the bike and back into the race. I correctly assumed that I had exited the water in 4th, in what was a PR swim time for me (28:36). However, given that my effort on the swim was average and my nagivation was well below average, I assumed that the swim was fast for all and that I probably had the typical amount of catch up to do. I was right. No cycle computer, HR monitor, or GPS for me this race. Totally gauging myself on perceived effort. Since this was my first major race since IM, I continually self-assessed. Is this IM effort, or 1/2 IM effort? I think maybe it's only IM effort. Pick it up. I assume it was very scenic, riding through rural, green Wisconsin, but in reality it was too foggy to see much. There were no major climbs but very subtle and constant grade changes and a rough surface made the course feel very slow. I kept expecting to catch up to the other girls, or at least to see them, but it never happened. I tried not to get too demoralized and trust that my cycling was as strong as I believed it to be, but it was hard to do an entire 56 mile bike and to never see my competition. It turns out that when I was swimming a PR 28 minutes, those girls were swimming 23s. A fast swim, yes. And yes, I did make up my time on the bike with a 2:27:10 split - I would have just needed a few more miles to see the other ladies.

As I entered T2 I heard the announcer calling out Kelly and Lauren's names as they left, so only then did I know that I was back in the game. T2 was much less eventful than T1, and in a split second decision, I passed on the visor, as it was still foggy. About 5 minutes into the run the clouds parted and I regretted that decision. Oh well, it's just 13.1 miles. Nothing like and IM. The first 6 miles went really well. A scenic lakeside run past the zoo, out to a lighthouse and back to transition to start the 2nd lap. The spectators that I ran past kept telling me that I looked better than the girls ahead, which was encouraging, but again, I couldn't see them. Finally, at the turnaround I got an idea of how far back I was and I caught Lauren just before the end of the 1st lap. And that was just before I started to feel like crap. I just hoped that Lauren didn't sense how crappy I felt because I really didn't feel like a side-by-side run. My descent into feeling awful was pretty abrupt. It was 87 degrees with 100 percent humidity, and at this point the sun was beating down. It was unlike anything I get to experience very often. My energy levels felt good, my muscles didn't feel exhausted, but my legs felt like they were made of lead. At the 2nd turnaround, I realized that I had lost time to both Kelly and Becky, and I went into survival mode for the rest of the run. One foot in front of the other gets you to the finish line faster than not doing that does.

And that was that. After a semi-disappointing run I finished in 4:32 and took 3rd place. Then I got to hang out and cheer for Kris, Chris, and Jenny. With the hard part done, it was a gorgeous day for spectating.Ironwoman Kris simultaneously running and cheering through the fog.

Jenny running towards the finish with Racine's gorgeous beach as a backdrop.

Post race celebrations couldn't have been better - a shower followed by SUSHI! The kids played on the slip-and-slide and the adults gorged on raw fish and beer. It was an awesome evening. Being that this is being posted so late after the fact, it makes me incredibly nostalgic for long summer days. Not only was the evening after the race supreme, but the next day Kris gifted me a massage certificate! Does it get any better?! If Aaron hadn't been convalescing at home with a sprained ankle and knee, I might not have left. Indeed, I was very sad to do so. Thanks so much to everyone who made me love Racine - I can't wait to come back!

It's off to bed now, but I promise more updates soon. Troika, Coeur d'Alene Olympic, Sooke International, and the awesome week spent at training camp in Victoria, BC with my Lifesport teammates. I should have the blog up to date by December. I still maintain that my favorite ever triathlon was my first, but I'm presently as excited about the sport as I have ever been. It's amazing what healthy knees and a solid training block will do for the spirits. Can't wait for Kona!

Ironman Coeur d'Alene is so much fun.

2008-07-31T20:21:00.000-07:00

Ironman Coeur d'Alene gets better every time I do it. 2006 was a complete disaster (albeit a fantastic learning experience), 2007 was physically painful but exceedingly fun, and 2008 will be hard to beat. I am certainly hopeful though! This was my first Ironman as a pro and perhaps the greatest of my many concerns was our 35 minute swim lead on the 2 lap swim course. I swam one lap of the course a couple of times before the event and it took me roughly 31 minutes each time, so I felt confident that a 4 minute lead on the mass start would be sufficient to avoid being swallowed up by the thousands of swimmers who are faster than I.

My confidence in this matter was buoyed by my great stroke of luck after the cannon sounded. About 200 m into the swim (well after getting dropped by the majority of the female field), I came across a male pro who was was treading water, presumably fixing his goggles. Just as I swam up to him, he began to swim again, and I jumped on his feet. Staying in his draft was a lot of work for me, so I assumed we were going to nail the first lap. I got dropped with about 300 m left in the 1st lap, but was still excited by my stroke of drafting luck. I was gutted to see 33:43 on my watch as I rounded the turn buoy on the beach and belly flopped back into the lake. WTF?!

I was a bit demoralized, but greeted by the most amazing site every time I breathed to my right side. Or every time I breathed, as the case would be. Carrying on. Thousands of athletes in brightly colored caps crammed onto the flood-shrunk beach. I imagined how much power could be generated if one could harness the collective electricity of their nerves. It was really exciting to watch the athletes in the mass start pile into the lake like an undulating superorganism. The excitement lasted about 1 minute until I got CREAMED by the fast swimmers. I mean it. Being just ahead of the mass start was my biggest fear, but it was actually way worse than I had imagined. I kept trying to slip behind the people squeezing around each side of me (or over the top), but the succession of swimmers never stopped. It was morally exhausting. The far turn buoys were as horrendously slow and crowed as I had experienced in '06 and '07, but I finally found some clean water once I was around them. I was too exhausted to even consider looking for a draft somewhere. The cold headache had set in, and I just wanted out of the water. Let the real race begin, I thought.

Awwww. Nuts!

I know that it doesn't serve me to discount the swim in this way, and I will only ever be genuinely competive once I can hang with the main pro gals, but at that point I knew my only way back into the race was on the bike. I stumbled in the deep sand a couple of times getting out of the water, but saved my real wipeout for the transition area proper. Running in bike shoes and making a hard left turn on a wet sports court = bloody knees. Just so you know. It wasn't like I was the only person in transition or anything. I had to laugh at myself but unfortunately, it made for a real let down of a post-race story. The dialogue was typically something like this: "Holy cow, did you fall off your bike or something?" "Nah, I just fell over in T1."

Have I mentioned that I love my bike? I LOVE my bike. My Scott Plasma fits me perfectly, is so smooth and light, handles well, and performs brilliantly. I really love it. I desperately hope that Scott sponsors the Zoot Ultra team again next year, because I really don't want to let go of this bike. Sometimes I have to rein in my bike. Like during the first 20 miles or so of IM Cd'A when it's easy for a slow swimmer like me to desperately chase down the rest of the field. I kept a pretty steady pace heading out to Higgins Point and figured out that I was about 10 minutes down on Heather Wurtele and 8 minutes back of the main field. I was in 9th place at that point.

Then it was time to time trial out to Hayden where I would have another chance to see my competition at Ohio Match. I passed a couple of girls on my way out there, and saw 2 more within reach at the turnaround. I made a point of not "chasing" anyone, but rather maintaining my effort and taking it as a bonus when I passed someone. It is a bit addictive though, passing one person makes me really want to find another. The bike felt really easy. Reflecting on my run split, I might have gone a little bit hard, but I felt comfortable, and had pretty even splits for both of the laps.

So green

It was gorgeous out there. Our long winter and cold spring didn't make for much decent training weather, but they kept the fields and forests of N. Idaho amazingly green. I was proud to be a local at such a beautiful race venue. In the end, I finished the bike in 3rd place, about 14 minutes behind eventual champion Heather Wurtele, and a couple of minutes behind 5x IM champ Heather Gollnick.

The best imaginable friends and race supporters. Shelby up from San Diego, Aaron and Kali (the dog), Laura D, and Roger and other Tri-fusioners yelling out splits over a megaphone. Phaedra was busy taking the bike pic above.

I ran my first few miles too quickly. I knew that I should start out at a slower pace, but it just felt WAAAY too slow. Familiar story. So naturally I convinced myself that I could hold that too-quick pace for the entire marathon and heck, why not just go ahead and win the dang thing. Obviously, I paid the price later. Again, familiar story. The majority of the run is a bit of a blur, with the majority of the memories being of running through so many familiar faces in town and then seeing my lovedest ones on the outskirts of town. I also remember Desiree Ficker motoring past me at a pace that seemed appropriate for a 5 km race. My lead bikers were rad (they changed frequently as I got passed by 3 successive women and then repassed one). There are some real perks to racing as a pro!

My original lead cyclist. He didn't last very long . . .

Unfocused eyes. Must have been a rough patch.

In the end I finished 5th. I was really happy. My final time, 10:08, was 34 minutes faster than last year and I secured my first ever pro paycheck. Best of all, it was a really fun day. It sounds corny, but I felt genuinely loved by my friends and family who came out to support me, and I was grateful to be able to smile back at them. Most of the time. Miles 4-8 of the marathon were really tough physically and mentally, but the finish line gave me shivers. I know I could do it more descriptive justice if I weren't writing about it 1.5 months after the fact, but the knowledge that I have a lot of races to catch up on is making me want to wrap this entry up. I do need to thank the special people who not only helped me get to the start line, but made my entire day epic. Aaron, Phaedra, Shelby, Laura, Andy & Bri, Dad, Roger & Jessi, and of course my friends who were out there on the course with me: Conrad, Katie, Troy, Aubre, Sam, Rick, Amanda & Michael, Robin & John, Kelli, Al, Keats, Tim, Vicky & Martin (haha) . . . congrats to all.

Post-race with my little Phaedra. Supporter and organizer extraordinaaire. I only hope that someday I'll begin to be able to repay her for everything. Notice the giant camera lens? She and Jessi Thompson are responsible for the majority of my photos of this event.

Kali was relatively new to our lives at this point, but she astounded everyone with her good behavior and downright awesome personality. Thanks for the support little doggy.

Boise 70.3

2008-06-06T09:33:00.000-07:00

div>With a bit of spare time before my LAST DAY OF LECTURE, I'll start on my Boise 70.3 race recap. Without adding too many boring details about the travel to the race,etc., I'll say that we arrived at the Grove Hotel pretty late on Friday night and with light exclusion shut firmly, I was determined to get a good night's sleep. In this, I was mostly successful, waking around 8 am with some time for breakfast and studies before meeting up with Annie for the pre-race meeting. I had envisioned a day of relaxation and exploration of Boise, which is a city I have not visited since the Le Bois soccer tournament in high school. I had no idea how logsitics-intensive the day before the race was to be, however. After the meeting, registration lines, bike shuttling, and the mandatory viewing of last hour of the ever classic The Fugitive (Aaron and I get a little TV crazy in hotel rooms. The stations aren't fuzzy and there are more than two of them!), I was quite seriously the last person to drop off my run bag at 5:59:49.

Still in my sweaty run singlet, Aaron and I then headed straight to dinner with Eve, Annie, Conrad, Katie, Annie's parents, and the genuinely missed Dan Schremmp who is interning in the optometry department at Shopko in Boise this summer. That guy is hilarious. It was a great way to relax, chow and enjoy (?) some excessively loud live music. If you're an Idaho voter with interest in the senate race, LaRocco is all about "change" and has a really loud rock cover band supporting him. For what it's worth.

Then it was time for all of the obligatory last minute race prep, which wasn't too difficult given that we had already set up our bikes at the Lucky peak reservoir and dropped off our run gear bags. Eve, Annie, and I did, however, need to ensure that our neoprene swim caps were in good working order. We're still waiting for Triathlete magazine to come begging for a photo shoot.
Race morning was cold and windy, and being on the western end of a time zone, the sun didn't come up until it was nearly time to start the race. I got a ride to the start with Conrad, Eve, Annie, and Katie, who was a champ shuttler/supporter. Being with responsible sorts of people, we were there very early, and I found myself wandering aimlessly for a long while. Lots of time spent dreading the cold and increasingly choppy water.

That's me wearing my neoprene swim cap underneath my hoodie for extra warmth and protection from the wind.

I really did not enjoy the swim. Not only was it very cold, but there was serious chop on the water and my brand new goggles leaked the whole time. With my whole body immersed in ice water, I at least wanted my eyeballs to stay dry. No such luck. Heading out to the first turn buoy, I considered for a second what it would be like to stop, raise my hand, and be saved from the discomfort, but I pushed on knowing that it was merely that. A remarkable thing happened during the swim however, and I was actually surrounded by a handful of women for a while. Even though I felt like my whole body was discoordinatedly flopping, flailing and essentially not going anywhere, there must have been others in a similar state of stagnation. A few times, I stopped to empty my goggles and had no trouble catching right back up to the others. Then, my only regret of the race happened. A girl with whom I had been swimming mostly side by side made a move for the group ahead, and I had to make the split second decision of whether or not to go with her. In the end, I was a coward. I was already feeling so distressed by the cold and my eyeballs that I make the decision not to push the pace and fell away from her feet. Then I decided to re-empty my goggles. For this act of un-bravery, I was rewarded with the view of that woman swimming ahead to two women ahead and I then watched the three of them pull farther away with each buoy. I won't pretend that the outcome of the race would have been remotely different had I tried to stay with that girl, but I do know that I need to become more comfortable with being uncomfortable in the swim.

The photo below isn't terribly interesting except for the fact that there are actually women behind me exiting the water. I think maybe they were even on my feet the whole way? The picture also does no justice to the chop. Even the top swimmers' swim times were five minutes slower than would be expected.

My goal for the race was to push myself on the bike, which is something I haven't been able to do so far this season. That is likely due to the fact that only now do we have enough (marginally) decent cycling weather behind us for training, and partially due to the fact that my legs haven't been feeling terribly spunky on the bike so far this year. It was a good goal to have, because my legs felt great on the bike. I wore a heart rate monitor for the first ever time in a race, and I learned that I race at a much higher heart rate than I even knew was possible for me on the bike. Very interesting. Regardless, it went really well, and I thought it was a fun course. Fast without being completely flat, and open enough to be able to see my competition (another first). I moved from 13th to 8th place on the bike and my bike time was very much on par with the top elite women, so I was thrilled with that. I was passed by one woman named Teri Albertazzi who had a crazy fast bike split and who additionally turned out to be a super-nice person. That is always fun.

The run course was pretty fast with the exception of a few tight turns and hairpins that were a bit awkward. I loved the support on the course and there were some really scenic bits along the river though Boise's green belt. I felt really good on the run and just tried to run a consistent pace that would score me a sub 1:30 run split. The weather was probably in the upper 70s and overcast with brief sprinkle sessions. Perfect. Even though Boise is 7 hours away from Spokane, a lot of Spokanites made the trip to race and to support. It is always special to hear my name shouted by people I know at an "away" race. Katie, Natalie Gallagher and Steve Kramer were notably awesome. Thank you for your support and vocalizations guys. Steve snapped the picture below. I love that it captures some of the awkwardness of racing. Normally, somebody would have to pay me to run through orange gatorade (and to litter!), but with four miles left to run, who cares?! Did I mention that the aid station volunteers were fantastic?

In the end I held that 8th place position, but had no idea until the finish line that I had been so close to the rest of the field. When I saw Kate Major, Desiree Ficker, Linsey Corbin, and Teri Albertazzi still milling around in the finish area, I realized that they hadn't finished much earlier. It's was a bit gutting to learn after the fact that I was only a minute away from 5th place and $1000, but I was happy with my race, and that's priceless, right? Right? Oh, I barely got my sub 1:30 run split (1:29:38). Annie, in her first ever 1/2 ironman ran even faster, which testifies to her athleticism and potential at the distance.

Aaron's wave started WAY after mine, so I had time to get my post-race massage (awesome), change my clothes, and to catch up with Annie and Eve before heading back to the finish line to cheer him in. The timing was great, and he PRed his run and overall 70.3 time (without a ton of focused training, I might add). Everyone I know was happy with their respective races, which made for smiles all around. Less than a week after a nasty bike spill, Conrad finished 5th in his ultra-competitive age-group, Annie finished 9th pro in her first ever 1/2 Ironman, and Eve won the entire masters division in a sprint finish that involved flying elbows. Very exciting.
After crashing Eve etc.'s hotel room for showers afterwards, Aaron and I had to hit the road in order to be back to the Can in time for work/school etc. on Monday. We made a last minute decision to take the scenic route home, which is technically 100 miles shorter, but over an hour longer due to the narrow and windy roads. It was a fantastic choice and I recommend the route to anyone travelling that direction. The landscape was stunning and the stormy conditions and late day sun added phenomenal texture. It was so much more exciting than driving through the Tri Cities! The only low point was trying to find somewhere besides Subway to eat in Pullman at 9:30 on a Sunday night, and then proceeding try to eat a Subway sandwich while driving a stick shift home. I think Aaron will be finding peppers and cucumbers in his car's various crevices for months. Molly, can I join you in the "Subway'ed out" club?

All in all, it was a fun race. My "it" was intact, having Aaron along was immensely enjoyable, Spokane represented in a major way, and I am feeling happy and grateful to be healthy heading into this Ironman Coeur d'Alene. Fourteen days, yay!

Many thanks to Steve Kramer for the pictures and encouragement, and to Katie for the pictures and all other kinds of associated race support. She and Conrad are now officially engaged, so congrats to them!

WILDFLOWER

2008-05-10T21:16:00.001-07:00

In the past, I have showed up to races exhausted, sick, hungry, and/or hungover (in my much younger, less mature days, of course) and, every once in a while, my performace far exceeds what I deserve. I spent the week of the 2006 Ironman 70.3 world championships very sick, exhausted, and mad at my poor little sister for passing her bug onto me. I ended up feeling fantastic on raceday (crash included). Likewise, I remember a particular half marathon in college in which the first several miles were tainted by Long Island Iced Tea burps from beverages consumed mere hours prior to the gun . . . PR. The point of this blog entry isn't to corrupt my underaged readers nor to convince all of you who know me better that I really am wild and hip (it is Saturday night and I'm blogging after all), but really to affirm my long-held belief that some days my body is up for racing and sometimes it isn't. I don't know that I necessarily have a whole lot of control over it. I know many triathletes who would insist that this isn't the case, and that optimal performances are always possible with proper training, rest, tapering, nutrition, supplementation, weather, etc, but having "failed" at several races for which I was, in my opinion, properly prepared, I really do think that in some races, I just don't have "it." IM Coeur d'Alene 2006 and the Grand Columbian half come to mind. I know this isn't a very proactive approach to a race, but it doesn't mean that I don't attempt to learn something from every failure, nor that and "it"less race much end in disaster.

Wildflower was one such race. Last year I made the 17 hour road trip to Lake San Antonio, California in Conrad's Xterra with Troy, Dan Schrempp, Conrad, 4 bikes, 3 tents, lots of smelly shoes and a canoe-sized cooler. It was epically fun. We scored a killer camp site with a picnic table, my college roommate Rachael came up from LA, and I laughed for all but the 5 hours I was actually racing. As an amateur, I had a breakthrough race at Lake San Antonio last year, winning the amateur race by over 11 minutes. I remember reflecting on the bike course thinking that its difficulty was seriously over-rated and that the run course was under-rated. I also remember watching the pro women start over 1 hour before me last year and thinking "I sure am glad I don't have to start yet." Fast forward 1 year . . .

It turns out that starting in the pro wave is a bit of mixed blessing. Brilliant because there aren't heaps of slow swimmers from previous waves to swim through and there is plenty of clean water to be had. However, most of you know that swimming is not my strong suit and I have an unfortunate tendency to get dropped by the rest of the pro women in the first 50 meters. Too much clean water for me really. It is going to be a lonely IM Coeur d'Alene this year if I have to do the whole 4 km by myself. I honestly haven't even been able to see the rest of the pack in my past two races. Oi Vey. My swim still ended up being 3 minutes faster than last year (mostly due to the lack of 2007's wind and chop) and 2 minutes faster than the California 70.3, so I didn't much mind heading out onto the bike by myself (as fast male age-groupers streamed by, that is).

After all the pre-race nerves before Oceanside, I was strangely calm before this swim start. Too calm perhaps. I suppose I experience the worst in Oceanside (a completely solo swim), so there wasn't anything to fear.

The second I got out of the water, however, I felt horrible. T1 went smoothly enough, but as soon as I mounted my bike, the hurt began. This sensation usually happens when I'm tired and training hard and my thighs feel "burny," but despite several days of reduced training, there wasn't an ounce of freshness in my muscles. I don't imagine that 2 days in the car is the best pre-race regime, but it's enforced rest, and it worked for me in 2007. The first big climb out of the lake basin had me wheezing like a shameless asthmatic, which is a very unusual occurence for me.

After 20 miles or so, I was able to settle into a so-so pace. It's a bit demoralizing being steadily passed by top age-group men, as opposed to steadily passing slow age-group men as I had the year before, but I know I have no control over the people around me and I can only focus on my race. I didn't do that terribly well, especially after the brutal climb at mile 40 when I caught myself repeatedly flaking out. Remember when I said that last year I thought the bike course was over-rated? I changed my mind. All said, I biked about 20 seconds faster than last year, though I was convinced that I was riding about 10 minutes slower. I don't race with a speedo or heart-rate monitor, so it's often anyone's guess.

The run stunk. I never ever felt good. I spent the first few lightly rolling miles just trying to get my heart, stomach, and breathing under control in preparation for the ruthless hills that I knew were to come. Just as I seemed to do that, the hills indeed began. So did the heat. It was probably only in the low 80s, but to us northerners, we may as well have been vortexed to Death Valley. We had a weekend once when it got above 60 and have otherwise not been able to train in anything with short sleeves. Booties remain the standard on the bike.

Disheartened from the omission of the naked aid station at mile 4 (it cracked me up last year) I inched up the mile long, cambered dirt hill thinking "after this, everything else will feel easy." Wrong again. Somehow, in the midst of feeling awesome last year, I neglected to notice how tough all of the subsequent rollers are. I fell off the pace pretty substantially from miles 6 - 10. I actually swore off the race ever again at that point, but I reserve the right to retract that swearing off. A couple of gels at mile 10 restored a bit of wind to my sails (glycogen to my muscles?) and I pushed through to the end. I didn't realize it until after I got home, but I actually ran almost 2 minutes faster than last year, so I am retrospectively pleased with that fact. It just felt so slow.
Pushing down the finish chute my lips and fingers went numb and began to tingle. That's usually the sign that I've reached my limit. 12th place finish. Same as I would have been last year had I been racing pro. I'm really excited to do Boise so I can stop comparing all of my performances to last year!

Now the ode to my peeps. It turns out that the Spokane contingent pretty much rocked Wildflower! Jeff Blackwell, Sam Piccici, and Molly Obetz were all 5th in their age-groups, Ben Greenfield was 4th in his, Phaedra and Sean Linder were 8th in their age groups (Sean hadn't run in weeks due to a hip injury and still had a great race with painful aftermath, and Phaedra had a stomach bug), and Troy was 9th in his. These are huge age-groups, by the way, so everyone from our community was in the top 10% of their respective divisions. That is especially phenomenal given our cold spring and the difficult, hot conditions in California!

My carpool and camping mates, Sean, Troy, and Molly deserve special credit for being phenomenal company. They were even courteous enough to eat their post-race double doubles outside the car. Our campsite (above) wasn't exactly the paradise we scored last year, but it's amazing how a patch of grass can become home. Sean even sacrificed his tent fly so we had something to sit on. Unfortunately, this didn't provide much in the way of shade or peace from the early morning parking directors with megaphones. "Why did Ken send those guys down the hill?!!" When there are 30-something hours of driving, several nights of camping, and a mere 5 hours of racing, the race itself is almost seems like an afterthought. I cannot believe how well the trip has gone both years. I do not like sitting in cars, and the hours on the road flew by (perhaps that's easy for me to say since Troy did all of the driving). It may have been our reminicing about Conrad and his love for horses, the sagacious advice of Dr. Laura, or Molly's constant narrative (I can clearly see yr nuts!), but regardless, it was so fun I think I might just have to do it again.
Many thanks to Laura D. and Troy for the pictures!

Spring Thaw Duathlon / Spokane River Run

2008-04-22T08:23:00.000-07:00

Can you find Phaedra?

Those pictures at the top of my last blog remain appropriate. I know I'm just singing to the choir if I berate the spring weather (and the forecast!), but holy gosh darn heck I'm sick of cold, snowy, windy, icky, non-bicycle friendly weather. Okay, that's out of my system now. It's time for belated race reports. Despite my whinging session, 2 weekends ago we had brilliant weather. Stunning amazing glorious 60+ degree sunshine. Even though I had to work all day Saturday, the enthusiasm of everyone who came into work from the Centennial trail was contagious, and it was a great day. My hot new Scott

Sunday was the 1st spring thaw duathlon and the temps topped 70 degrees! The race itself was really fun. I got a bit nervous during the first run because of the stellar female runners out there. After the 2-lap, 2.2 mile trail run, I came into T1 just behind Janet Collar and had a relatively smooth transition with my Zoot shoes. I decided, due to the longer, rough nature of the transition zone to wear my bike shoes through transition. Just as I mounted my bike, I saw Annie sail by with a flying mount. I had no idea she was so close behind. Luckily, she still had to get her feet into her shoes, and I was able to establish the lead at the start of the bike. Because it usually takes me a while to warm upon the bike, I felt pretty rotten hammering from the start. With only 10 miles to ride, there was no time to ease into the ride, but I was able to focus for such a short period of time. I expected the last run to feel horrible, but it was quite the opposite. I felt way better than I had the first time around (maybe I need to warm up more before these things?), my stride felt more relaxed, and I didn't run any slower. In the end, it was a fun, productive race, and I took a bit of time off of my course record from the year before. Final Run

Afterwards, a rather large group of us went for a 45 mile ride around Long Lake. I remember being killed by Conrad, Troy, and Pete the year before on a brutal 60 miler to Wellpinit, but the pace this year was MUCH better. Still challenging, but not completely daunting. It was wonderfully novel to wear shorts, a short-sleeved jersey, and no booties, hats, jackets, etc. At this rate, it's something we're not likely to experience again until July, but it was sure nice.

Fast forward one week to the Spokane River Run. I happily discovered this race a year ago, and it's one of my favorites now. It's a fundraiser for the Garfield Elementary APPLE program, and there are 5km, 10km, 25km, and 50 km options. I chose the 25 km option. All of the courses are completely on trails in Riverside State Park. In fact, during the 25km race, we only touched pavement once wjen we crossed the centennial trail just before the finish. It's not an easy course, with interesting footing in areas and lots of climing and descending, but I think it's a really good warm-up for Wildflower. Last year I had ridden 90 miles the day before (back when we actually had nice springs), and was predictably slow on the climbs. This year, I was just slow on the climbs.

The first 3 miles of the race are relatively flat, and I kept my heart rate about 6 beats below my typical 1/2 marathon race effort, figuring I would save a bit for the hills and the extra 3 miles. I owe a huge thanks to the guy who chased me down at the very start when I ran the wrong way. According to my Garmin, it was only about a .1 mile detour, so no big deal in the end, but I did have to endure ample chiding from everyone who saw me completely ignore the giant yellow arrows and run the wrong way. It was not the first time I have run off course in a trail run. I managed to do it 2 years in a row at the Tiger Tri in Colville.

After the first major climb and a 1 mile section on huge chunks of rock along an abandoned rail bed, the 2 guys I had been running with pulled away, and I completely bonked. I'm a bit upset with myself for not bringing some GU along, because sports drink wasn't available at the aid stations until about the 10 mile marker. Normally, I would just stick with water for a race of this distance, but it fell at the end of a particularly tough 3 week training block, and I don't think I had much in the way of glycogen reserves. The last 7 miles or so were really tough, but I managed to stick with it and held off a fast closing Martin Scates, who, incidentally, nearly caught me at the finish last year. He seems to be much better at pacing himself in this race than I. Regardless, I secured the top female spot, and learned a bit about using perceived effort rather than heart rate when my body is tired. The river is so full right now, it's spectacular. This is a picture of the race from a different year, but as you can see, it's not a bad place to run.

California!!!

2008-04-04T21:43:00.001-07:00

The past week was my 2nd best spring break ever. The 10 days in the Bahamas in college will forever remain atop the list, but I probably laughed more during my week in SoCal than I have in the past year. Shelby, Steven, and Phaedra absolutely kept me rolling. I would love to throw out random quotes from the trip, but they would be irrelevant to the majority of my blog readers - all ten of them. Anyway, the break couldn't have been more timely. As I packed up my bike it was blizzarding outside.
These pictures don't really capture the giant horizontal snowflakes, but I assure you, it was a treat to leave. I'm told that it continued to snow the entire week that I was gone and admittedly, it was a bit disconcerting to fly back to a completely white landscape when I returned. It's supposed to be spring!

I was given a hint of things to come when Shelby and Steven came to pick me up at the airport along with Steven's Buddha, which was secured in the backseat (seatbelt and all) due to lack of space in his bedroom.
I'm trying to remember how exactly we stayed occupied during our pre-race week, and I pretty much just recall laughing a lot. We swam in her parents' retirement community pool, which was lovely despite it being a bit like a game of frogger with lots of people meandering around with their noodles. There were some mean ping pong games and I was slaughtered in my first ever game of Wii Tennis (and still have a nagging shoulder injury as a result). I also met my first ever hairless cats, which were at once scary-looking and surprisingly affectionate. I was lucky enough to run into the runwithryan.com crew, who appeared to know where they were going as I ran aimlessly around the Balboa Park trails. Thanks for letting me tag along guys. I'll find you again the next time I'm in San Diego.

We visted the velodrome hoping to hop into one of their "come try it out" sessions and also managed to leave the car unlocked and running (with radio blasting) in downtown La Jolla for the better part of the evening. Who does that?! Things got even better when Phaedra showed up, with more hilarity and, unfortunately, less sleep. I forgot, during the off-season, how annoying pre-race anxiety can be. I'm not a particularly nervous person, but this was my first ever race as a pro, and the field was stacked. It sounds negative, but I was really scared that I would come in last.

Four-o-clock am wake up calls are never welcome, but when I woke up Saturday morning, I knew that the only way to calm my nerves was to actually get the race done, so I slipped into my new ZOOT Ultra Team race kit and headed to Oceanside with Phaedra. Shelby had left the house at 3 a.m. because she foolishly volunteered to work the transition area. It turned out to be a great for me - she was my body-marker and she put the first ever "P" on the back of my leg. Phaedra caught my attention just as I was about to walk down the swim ramp for some last minute encouragement. The terror almost felt like Kona all over again, except that the water was about a million times colder this time around.

The swim was rough. Something funky has been going on for the past several weeks in the pool (not to mention that I was really struggling to fit swim sessions into my schedule at all), and it showed in the race. It's amazing how lonely a race can be when you're in the first wave and the entire swim pack drops you in the first minute. I never even saw them again. I didn't come out of the water dead last though - just 4th to last. The best part of the swim was my new ZOOT Zenith wetsuit, which was awesomely flexible. For the first time ever, my shoulders didn't feel at all fatigued at the end of the 2000 m wetsuit swim, even with my Wii injury. I didn't know that was possible. (34:00)

The first 25 miles of the bike were equally lonely and very interesting. I never saw anyone, with the exception of the odd male age-grouper who whizzed by. When you're a good 6-10 minutes behind the majority of your competitors, it takes a while to catch back up to them. It did ultimately happen, however. I passed a pair of women at the 25 mile marker and then proceeded to tick off at least another dozen during the rest of the ride. My SCOTT plasma was absolutely dreamy and smooth. I've only had it a for a few weeks, but I'm getting dialed in fit wise, and am enjoying (most) every moment I spend with my new bike. I probably should have ridden a little harder, but the 25 mile solo time trial was a good experience (2:42).

The run was okay. I never felt like i was pushing terribly hard, but my pre-season fitness isn't yet high enough to allow me to run much faster. I did get passed by a small handful of women managed to pass one, but for me a 1:31 half marathon is decent for my first race of the season. I certainly felt like my legs wanted to run more quickly, and I'm confident that that will come as my training starts to include more speed and strength endurance. It was also my first time racing in the new ZOOT Ultra shoes, and T2 was awesomely quick and smooth as a result. It was fun to notice Shelby's (Charmin's) chalk art along the run course. She was the best course volunteer of the day for sure!.

Phaedra started the race almost an hour after I did, so I had plenty of time to take advantage of the post-race massage service while I waited for her to finish. The thing I didn't manage to do was eat very much (Katie at the Metabolic Institute will be so disappointed in me!). When we finally made it to a restaurant around 4:30 pm for my first solid food in 12 hours, the only thing they could bring out asap was french fries, and we absolutely devoured them. So much for trying to get in a 4:1 ratio of carbs:protein in post-race. How about fat? I don't even think there was much potato in the fries. They were really just the crispy outside part. Sorry Katie!

Then Shelby and Phaedra dropped me off at the new Sheraton in Carlsbad for the ZOOT Ultra Team Camp, which was probably the fanciest hotel I've ever stayed in. Unfortunately I didn't get to spend much time between the crisp, clean sheets, but the five hours that I did spend in bed were blissful. The reason for the lack of sleep was the ZOOT/Timex/Triathlete Magazine party which probably would have been mostly tame had Phaedra and Shelby not come to liven things up substantially.

Flattering, I know.

I give myself credit for outlasting the rest of the Zoot-ers, but those Timex athletes put me to shame. Granted, they didn't have to walk home in the rain or get up for a 6 am team run the following morning, but I nonetheless must credit their stamina. I was sad to have to leave camp early the next day, but I'm glad I got the brief opportunity to learn more about the products I'll be using this season (Zoot, Fuelbelt, GU, Scott, Zipp, Suunto). It was especially nice to meet my teammates, as we'll be surely seeing each other at races all over the country this summer. Until then I'll be cranking through my last quarter of organic and biochemistry and braving through the snow that continues to fall. Many thanks to those who made this week surpremely fun and memorable.

Lewiston Duathlon & St. Paddy's 5

2008-03-19T21:01:00.000-07:00

My OChem final was yesterday, so my evenings have heretofore been devoted to less self-promotional activities. Okay, that only partially assuaged my blog-related guilt, so it's time for the weekend race wrap up. In a nutshell, 2 races, 2 wins, so no room for complaint. Unless, of course I was to complain about not having broken my Lewiston duathlon record from last year. In fact, I was 52 seconds slower, which is a bit concerning, since there wasn't any discernable difference in the weather. There were mumblings about the bike course being a hair longer this year, but I think my slower pace was likely due to my legs feeling horrible and dead on the bike. It happens sometimes. Regardless, it was a very fun day. Phaedra and Laura were my traveling buddies, and we shared a lot of laughs - initially at the weather (serious snow storms on the drive down) and later at Hayden's (Phaedra's son) antics.

There was also a fun-loving Spokane-based crew down there and we had a hard time taking ourselves too seriously, as the following pictures might attest.

The next day was the St. Paddy's Five - a classic 5 mile road race on the Spokane running calendar. I hadn't planned to do it because of the duathlon the day before and because I needed to get in a long ride. I knew that this chem final was going to eat up a bit of time over the subsequent few days, so Sunday was my only real window. After my first good night's sleep in ages, I woke up feeling rested and the weather looked WAY too nasty for an early morning ride. My legs felt pretty fresh (thanks to Katie at the Metabolic Institute for helping me with a recovery regimen!), and I knew there was a (small) chance of winning the $1000 spot prize after the race, so I headed over to SCC, where I immediately ran into a lot of my favorite Spokanites. Conveniently, a lot of my favorite people are runners. My only regret was running across a completely water-logged stretch of sod during my warm-up which resulted in my having very wet and cold feet until the race began.

It turns out that 5 mile races are over very quickly. My heart rate reached zones it hasn't seen in years, and I got out-kicked by a fourteen year-old boy down the final stretch, but I did mangage to (barely) eek out sub-six minute miles and the women's win. I didn't win the $1000, but Conrad did, so that was pretty cool.

After heading home and scarfing down a giant bowl of pasta, Conrad swung by to pick me up for a ride. It didn't end up being as long as I had initially planned, but it was quality. An easy zone 2 ride for him and upper zone 3 for me, but really fun. My legs burned from the races, but they felt strong and we managed to ride during one of the few breaks in what has been a pretty icky weather system lingering around the area for the past couple of weeks. There were moments (when we had a tailwind, naturally) that I couldn't keep the grin off of my face. When it's good on the bike, it's phenomenal. When it's bad (today) . . . nevermind.

In other news, Aaron is in Minnesota for the national biathlon championships right now. His first race is tomorrow (March 20) so feel free to send along good luck wishes. I can't wait to have him home, but am excited to hear how it goes!

Snake River 1/2 Marathon

2008-03-04T21:51:00.000-08:00

The first race of the season always gives me the jitters, even when it isn't a terribly important one. Luckily, this weekend I had Phaedra and Annie to take the edge off while we road-tripped down to Waiwai (?!) for the Snake River 1/2 marathon. I can't ever take myself too seriously when those two gals are around. If only Annie would learn that she can't sabotage my race by making me car sick with all of her sun visor shennanigans! Sheesh.

I love this picture of Tronrad

The purpose of the race for me was to set a pre-season benchmark and to see where my fitness is this year as compared to last. Last year, in what I learned were abnormally mild conditions, I raced tired and unintelligently and finished with a time of 1:26:05. I went into the race last weekend hoping to run somewhat faster (in the 1:25 range), but wasn't necessarily expecting to do so, as it is hard to adequately evaluate my fitness with all of my favorite training benchmarks perpetually covered in snow and ice (the track, etc.).

Descending into the canyon, it became evident that fitness was not to be the only factor in the race, as the winds had kicked up and had a hand to play. It was chilly too, and the stiff wind in my face at the start line had me at least pleased at the prospect of a negative split on the out-and-back course. Naturally, that formidable headwind only lasted about 600 meters, and then seemed to magically die out. Right. Like any running fool, I thought myself to be particularly fleet-footed on this morning, clocking 6:15 miles, without a great deal of effort. I was nagged by the fact that I had gone out too hard the year before and suffered the glycogen-deprived consequences, but became increasingly convinced of my winter base training and went with it. That is, until the turn around. It turns out that the wind had never died down at all - it was hurling me towards the turnaround the whole time. And then I had to fight it. In a pacing manouver, I had fallen off of the back of the small pack of guys that I had run out with, not realizing that I would desperately need them on the return. So I played a tactical card and slowed up to wait for someone to work with into the wind. I couldn't have been luckier in the next person to come by. He was a guy in yellow and he did an amazing job catching us back up to my original group. There were 4 of us for the most part, and I can't imagine having tried to do that alone. The times that I found myself out in front were unbelievably hard.

It was a tough 6.5 miles, but I think they were smartly executed, and I owe Peter and the guy in yellow a great deal for doing more than their fair share of the pulling. My finish time was 1:24:32, which was good enough for the women's win, but that is of little importance. (on a side note, 9 Garmins have confirmed that the course was 13.2 miles. yay technology.) What is important is that my fitness appears to be at least on par and probably a bit better than it was as this point last year. That makes me exceedingly happy, given that most of last season was spent convalescing, which doesn't typically result in great fitness gains.

Checking my time like a good little anal triathlete

Then I got to hang out with Annie and Phaedra again on the whole drive home. What a lucky day, huh? I know many athletes who don't feel the same way, but I love out-and-back races. From competitive standpoint, I can see where my competition is, and from a social standpoint I get to cheer on all of my friends. I was astounded by how many familiar faces I saw running the opposite direction and it was a riot getting to yell their names and deliver the odd High-5. I'm still trying to decipher Conrad's comment though. "Get stinky?" I'm going to miss some names, but I want to give a shout out to everyone whose effort last weekend made me proud to call them my friends. Here it goes: Nice work, Phaedra, Annie, Conrad, Troy, Katie, Peter, Mike, Michael, Scott, Amanda, Aubre, Erika, Kirk, Tim, Mark, Vicki, Sasha, Steve, Eric, Martin, and everyone whose name doesn't spontaneously come to mind, but whose face made the day even better. Cheezy, ay?!

My Peeps (pretty quick ones at that - notice the medals)

Blackjack Loppet

2008-02-19T22:55:00.000-08:00

Last week was marked by a lot of school and work. Thankfully, in the midst of the seemingly endless routine was carved out a brilliantly protracted day that seemed to erase all the previous week's whinging and low grade "what am I doing with my life" depression. Anyone who knows me that using the term depression is a bit severe, but Aaron can certainly attest to the extent to which the quotidian nature of my February was getting me down. Homework on Valentines Day. Yee Haw. Regardless, after work on Saturday I drove straight up to Colville to meet Aaron at work so we could drive to Rossland the next morning for the Blackjack Loppet. Luckily, Aaron is better at motivating to prep his skis than I, and we spent the better part of the evening attempting to wax our skis in a somewhat tidy fashion in the Mt. Carmel Hospital staff house kitchen.

The day began well before I would have liked with a pre-dawn alarm clock, and there was a bit of apprehension knowing that the day would be very physically grueling, and that I would have a lot of Canadian competition to boot. I am under the impression that cross country skiing takes on a whole new level of religiosity once the border is crossed, and I did my typically brilliant job of psyching myself out at the start line. "Oh my gosh, she's really skinny and her lycra tights have logos all over them. She must be fast."

As much as I would like to maintain skate skiing as a recreational activity and to not focus too much on drills and intervals, I really should work on my double poling. I got caned in the mass start and was immediately blocked in by a bunch of jr.'s and about half of the British Columbian populace. Luckily, the trail for the first km or so was really wide, and the inevitable shuffling of skiiers ultimately worked itself out. I took the lead as soon as I was able to make my way though the crowd and that was it. Atypically, I wasn't thereafter consumed with my usual front-of-the-pack-terror, which normally has me freaked out that someone I previously passed will catch up to me and the Earth will be unleashed from its axis and the world as we know it will end. Because these things are obviously related.

The course was awesome! Three tough 10 km loops with an exhaustingly lengthy climb, a couple of fun, moderately technical descents, and several steepish rollers. My first time up "the climb" was fairly anxiety provoking, as I tried to fathom how the hill would feel the second and third times around. Every time I thought the climb was over I turned a corner and saw the trail continue upwards. More anxiety. There wasn't much of a chance to capitalize on the descents either, as they ended abruptly and painfully in the form of a steep hill. The good part is that each subsequent lap only felt easier than the time before. When I expect the worst, I am always underwhelmed.

It wasn't a big race, but I have to give a big kudos to the Blackjack ski club for putting on such a wonderful event. The course was perfectly groomed, marked, marshalled, and supported. And although the Blackjack folks had no control over it, the weather was spectacular. The morning began in a bit of a cloud that occasionally wafted on to reveal some blue sky. As the race progressed, the sun asserted its dominance and a smattering of light clouds added another level of depth to the atmosphere. There were moments during the race when sunlight filtered through the cedars and illuminated ice crystals suspended in the air. It was like skiing through a tunnel of ultra-fine sparkles!

After the friendly post-race feed and awards ceremony (I got a really neat, locally crafted, mug), Aaron and I headed out for a recovery ski. We were only going to do Aqueduct, but ended up skiing another 20+ km. I was pretty "burny," but my energy levels were still high, the day continued to be brilliant, and I had a wonderful time skiing and chatting with Aaron. It's not often that I don't feel guilty having him ski at my pace, but after a 30 km race, I felt no guilt at all. Even the car ride back was fun, and though the movie we subsequently starved through was not, it was a memorable and welcome day. I should add as a side note that some ringers came over from Canmore for the men's race, but Aaron still managed a 4th place overall and won his master's division.

Monday it was straight back to work, but I felt renewed and cheerful. I can't say that I prefer working to being outside on these sunny February days, but I'll take what I can get :)

Langlauf

2008-02-11T14:50:00.000-08:00

After Saturday's competitive disappointment, I was thrilled to drive up Mt. Spokane Sunday morning for my first ever Langlauf 10 km classic ski race. Again, underpreparedness ruled, and I found myself scraping, brushing and base-binding my classic skis at the last minute. The process wasn't made any easier by the severe wax box deficits that resulted from Aaron's trip to Colorado. I can't blame him though, they're his brushes and waxes after all. Regardless, I showed up at the Fitness Fanatics tent and let John and Uli advise me as to what the heck to do in the wax department. I should have realized that the reason all of the good skiiers were being so deliberate is that there is a science to classic ski waxing, but I had had enough of science during the previous week's chemistry classes. So I put on some red, then yellow, and then left a layer of gloppy silver on for good measure. In my limited classic skiing experience, it's better to have too much kick than too little.

So it was off to the start, and with no real concept of how to seed myself, I settled into the corral behind the "fast" corral. There were some speedy looking 8 year olds in front of me, and I figured they probably had a better grasp of classic skiing than I. It wasn't the most brilliant of plans from a competitive standpoint, but the beauty was that I couldn't have cared less. Seeding myself so badly just gave me the opportunity to pass lots of people. It turns out that when you have gobs of gooey kick wax on, classic skiing is EASY. It's certainly easier than skating cardiovascularly. The conditions were very disorienting though. I had no idea where I was for most of the race. I know the Mt. Spokane trail system extremely well, but we started on the snowmobile road, and it was so foggy that I never noticed when we merged back onto the regular trails. Suddenly, there were cow-bell ringers saying that we were 1/2 done, and I couldn't even remember having been on Shadow Mt. On skate skis, Shadow is a pretty tough climb, but I was able to jog up it easily on my overwaxed classics. I certainly paid the price for my exessive wax on the flats when my skis would stick solidly to the snow, but since I wasn't in the race to compete, it was funny more than anything.

I recommend Langlauf to anyone. Even I (who had only classic skiied 3 times previously) had a great time and was tickled to be a part of so much xc ski enthusiam. The thick fog starkly contrasted with the brilliant sunshine of Mt. Bachelor, and my approaches to the two events couldn't have been more different, but it was undoubtedly one of my most memorable winter weekends of my life.

Winter Nationals

2008-02-11T13:23:00.000-08:00

This past weekend felt long. That is a good thing - better than a work/school week feeling long. I finally managed to rope an adventurous friend into my hare-brained plan to drive to Bend, OR, do the winter triathlon national championship and drive back on the same day. I have mixed feelings about the race, but it was certainly a learning experience and a chance to get to know Sasha better.

This next bit will certainly amuse Phaedra, as she is continually berating my pre-race nonchalance, which is a euphamism for un-preparedness. Because I knew we would be cutting it close getting to and from the race, I was careful to Mapquest everything (hotel, race site, etc). So Sasha and I headed out across a treacherous parking lot well before daybreak with mapquest directions in hand ready to be at the Mt. Bachelor nordic center by 7:00 am at the latest, as registration/packet pickup was from 7-8. Naturally, I cruised past the plethora of signs pointing towards Mt. Bachelor, because surely Mapquest was going to take us there most directly. I started to get nervous as the sun came up and we were in the middle of the Deschutes National forest on a seemingly unfrequented road with no obvious mountain in sight. Perhaps the nordic center is just in the middle of this snowy forest, Sasha and I rationalized. When we had been driving for way too much time, I called Aaron in Colorado in a panic. He spent a lot of time in the Bend/Bachelor area during med school and residency, but had no idea where I was. Thankfully he had internet access and called me back with a convoluted route to guide us out of the middle of nowhere. That was just after we had reached the wall of snow and the sign reading "road closed for winter."

Luckily, the race was ridiculously unorganized, and our 8:35 arrival was no big deal. The big news for us, however, was that the race start had been changed to a mass start at 9:00 a.m. (Sasha's wave was originally slated for 10 and mine for 11). Oops. Time to figure out how to set up a winter tri transition and to determine what seat height I should use on Morgan's mt. bike. There were a lot of minor details that I thought I'd be able to negotiate during the 4 hours between our scheduled arrival and my wave start. We managed to get our numbers on, bikes and skis racked, and running shoes tied. Given that the race was a 4km run/10.5 km mt bike/8 km ski, I didn't really have a nutrition plan, since it should have taken about an hour. What I hadn't noticed, however, was that the sun that was so beautifully beating down on the mountain was turning our race course into a thick soup.

I put my toes on the line for the start, figuring that I had a pretty good shot at leading the run. The first few steps were a shock. Ankle deep snow and the odd plunge through to my knees. It got marginally better as we heading down into a shadier, forested area, but it was a tough run! 2 laps with a 1 km descent and a 1 km lung-burning ascent (the altitude was a minor shock). Still, I managed to be the first lady into T1 with all of a 25 second lead. T1 didn't go so well with gloved hands, but only started the bike a couple of seconds behind the eventual race winner. This is when my race when to s*!?. I couldn't get on my bike. Every time I tried to mount the front wheel would spin and lurch to the side. So I would run 20 meters and try again, with the same result. The few seconds that I did ride were absolutely chaotic. In addition, with my iced up cleats and pedals, there wasn't a chance of clipping into my pedals. I watched, bewildered as people streamed by on their mt. bikes. I'm not the worlds best mt. biker, but I'm not completely incompetent either. I had read about deflating your tires for riding on snow to 15-20 psi, and I had kept mine around 20, and assumed this might be part of my problem. With schrader valves, however, I couldn't reach the pin to deflate my tires any further (the nail-biting finally comes around to bite me back!). So I plugged on with my bike-jogging method until I started getting lapped by the top men. Finally, I took a safety pin off of my number and got to the valve pin that way. Immediate relief. I was able to finish the 1st lap mostly on my bike and catch 2 of the 6 women who had passed me while I floundered on the side of the race course. The next two laps were a return to bike/jog tactic for everyone, as the well trodden race course was at least 12 inches deep in sludge and impossible riding for even the most experienced winter triathletes. I gained a little more ground, as I was probably one of the better trained athletes when it comes to slow, slogging runs.

The ski was fast and fun. It started with an awesomely fun descent and despite having no time to fine tune my wax before the race, my skis were fast. Thanks for the HF Toko Robin! The only problem was that I was completely poked by that time. I had certainly not paced myself energetically and nutritionally for a 1:15 minute bike (snow jog with bike). Regardless, I was just happy to be using equipment that is actually designed for snow and actually finished the day with the 2nd fastest ski split. I was really happy about that, given that I've only been skiing for a year and the majority of the elite women's field was composed of elite XC Oregon skiiers. I'll definitely stick with triathlon for the forseeable future, but do wish I'd been exposed to XC skiing sooner.

So I finished 5th in the women's field. It would be lying to say that I wasn't disappointed, but I can't change what happened, so it was what it was. I suppose I am most bummed by the fact that my limiter should have been my skiing, but I was so ridiculoulsy underprepared for the mt. biking, and that is my own fault. If I had been better about finding directions to the race, perhaps I would have experimented on the bike course and figured out how to ride it and maybe even switched over to pedals with baskets, but who knows. Perhaps I would have remained as underprepared as ever and hung out in the warm lodge until my race start. Even though it was one of the harder things I have ever done, I will definitely do another because I know I am better than 5th. And it was fun in its own inane way.

The best part was feeling a genuinely warm sun on my body. It was t-shirt weather while milling around after the race, and the mountains were exquisitely beautiful. The return to Spokane's meltdown is dreary but welcome. I'll have my cross bike out on the roads SOON. I also owe a HUGE amount of gratitude to Sasha for her perpetually upbeat attitude, even as we sped towards a wall of snow Saturday morning, and endured a long post-race drive back to Spokane just so I could be at Langlauf the next morning. She was a complete champ!

Tired Shoulders

2008-02-05T21:42:00.000-08:00

My inaugural blog. It's relatively late, and I have snow to shovel, homework to do, a car to clean out before this weekend's road trip and 3 pairs of skis to wax. Nevertheless, I am happy. Yesterday got off to a brilliant start with a 12 mile run along the country roads at my dad's house and an afternoon/evening ski with Aaron (whose ski session started at 9:00 am and finished at 5:30!). I had a few fleeting moments of feeling remotely coordinated on the classic skis before switching over to the oh-so-familiar skates. The beauty of the past several weeks' excessive snow is that all the slogging through ungroomed snow makes even the cold, abrasive, and semi-soft conditions of yesterday seem fast. It's also a treat to have Aaron tired enough to ski my pace and give me helpful technique advice. It was a beautiful, peaceful, and cold evening at Mt. Spokane.

In unrelated news, I got really excited about organic chemistry today. I thought that I hated chemistry, but I really only hate it when I don't understand it. In contrast, I love being able to genuinely conceptualize the molecules that we are learning about. I am continually amazed by the geniuses who not only comprehend such material, but actually come up with it. Science has come so far in the past 200 years, I can only imagine what is in store.

Otherwise, my shoulders are tired. After yesterday's intense double poling on my slow classic skis, two days in a row of hard skating, and a big swim this evening, my arms are certainly feeling the hard work. In keeping with the theme of the blog, however, it's a happy soreness. I am so lucky to be able to be able to play and get stronger. I just have to remember that it will pay off in the form of faster swim times this season. Thanks for reading.