Righteous Richland

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

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

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

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

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.