Tuesday, October 31, 2006

A Day of Firsts

Today was my first cold-weather run (40 degrees, wind chill 30, 20-30 mph wind). First time I got to wear my snazzy new base layer. And the first time I got to run with my new puppy (who's officially been dubbed Kona by an overwhelming majority vote - even from non-tri friends and family who don't know what it means. The consensus is that it suits him perfectly. We agree - we found ourselves calling him Kona without trying to.).

On a gear note - base layer was great and that part of me felt just right. I could tell right away plain old sweats weren't the right choice because the wind cut right through them, but for now they're all I've got. I found a local tailor who's going to be my new best friend (I wear a lot of high heels because pants are always too long for someone of my height and he only charges 8 bucks to hem pants) so now I'm hoping to find a pair of running pants with a reasonable hem (i.e. without fancy stuff like zippers) and have them taken up, because it's only going to get colder.

Kona did surprisingly well considering he barely knows me as a handler and has certainly never run with someone before. Weaved in front of me when I wasn't being careful to make him heel and got his paws stepped on more than once, but the norm was for him to run nicely beside me. I was pleasantly surprised to find a fast walk/slow trot for him is the speed I've been training at and he paced me as steady as any treadmill. I forgot to time it, but I think we were in the 13-14 min/mile range; probably on the faster side since it was a bit challenging after a while.

We did a total of 2.5 miles, running a half mile twice, alternated with walking the rest. Not quite as much as I'd like to have run now that I'm up to 2.5 indoors, but not too bad with raging headwinds and occasionally tripping over Kona's feet. I did feel like I could have run longer stretches, probably even gone a whole mile at least once, but when I started to struggle with the headwind and feel my energy draining I was worried about hurting him and/or me by tripping over something (his feet, the garbage blowing around, curbs, gravel from construction).

All in all, a great start to what I hope will be a long and happy relationship.



[I must offer my apologies to Nytro for the obvious 'lipstick' in this picture. I'm not loving it, but I love him so I've gotta accept it.]

Gratuitous Cuteness

If Bold can post gratuitous fruit porn then I can post gratuitous puppy porn.

Monday, October 30, 2006

Harder Than I Remember

About two weeks ago I was excited to learn that my fabulous Yogini/Pilates instructor moved the Pilates class from Wednesdays to Mondays to resolve the conflict with the Advanced Weight Training class (it's practically the same crowd in both, so we could only do one or the other.)

I have a lot going on today between work projects and the new dog and hosting a Chamber of Commerce small business workshop here tonight, so I had my list of excuses all lined up for why I was going to blow off Pilates this morning (as if I needed more of an excuse than "it's at 9:00 Monday morning").

But it turns out my new dog has a built-in alarm clock feature (that feature broke years ago on my old dog) and we were not only up early enough for Pilates, we were up early enough to play fetch, tug-o-war, snuggle, get belly rubs, learn that someone touching our enormous paws is not the end of the world, learn that it's silly to walk past the water bowl to drink out of the toilet, check email, make breakfast (pause to thank the Powers of the Universe for the glory of Nutella), learn that it's not necessary to chomp Mommy's entire hand when she offers a treat, and carve a bit more on the pumpkin I didn't finish last night.

I've had entire weeks when I accomplished less.

THEN I went to Pilates. I've been a huge slacker about core training and it was way harder than I remember. But a tough class is such a great way to start the week and I'm really happy it's an option now.

Sunday, October 29, 2006

The Name Game

One of the quirky things that makes our relationship work is our obsessive devotion to naming our pets. It's a little trickier when you adopt an adult animal who's got a name, and we truly debated changing our new guy's name since he's pretty used to it.

We'd only had him for a few hours before it was obvious his name simply doesn't fit him (an artist friend said it best - "Jazz" is mellow). What's worse, it's doesn't roll off the tonge, and in the last 24 hours he's been inadvertently called names of every other naughty dog we've had.

One of our cats went weeks without a proper name, so we're in no rush here. And we are wide open to suggestion - sometimes when you're so close to something the obvious doesn't occur to you.

We've compiled a list of potential names based on what he's really like - big, lumbering, sweet, goofy, affectionate, and inadvertently destructive.

Havoc (Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war. We find this hilarious.)
Gamra (friend to people but destroys their stuff)
Shiva (Male god of benevolent destruction. But common usage is now female.)
Juggernaut ('Nuff said.)
Janus (A god of doorways... but he's not really a "guard" dog other than as a visual deterrent. He's more of a "come on in, I'll show you where we keep the jewelry" dog.)
Kona (Epic challenge. Massive scale. Requires a lot of training.)

Soooo... whatcha think?

It's a Boy!

We are proud to announce the adoption of 11 month old (and soon-to-be-renamed) Jazz into our furry family!


We were lucky to get copies of every single record about him (a rare luxury in rescue) and I read the shelter personality tests with great interest. His transformation from the rough, unruly pup turned into the shelter to where he is now is nothing short of amazing and is a clear testament to the value of shelters and rescues working together. The shelter staff saw his potential in spite of the ridiculous behavior his original owners created, got him in with the rescue and their skilled volunteers (special kudos to his amazing foster dad) immediately started reshaping this diamond-in-the-ruff into the stellar dog he will eventually be.

He's got a long way to go to perfect his manners and to learn not to bowl people over with his enthusiastic affection, but he's incredibly smart (less than 24 hours before he learned to open my husband's office door) and we are thrilled to have the honor of raising this special dog.

Saturday, October 28, 2006

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Questions for the Girls

I've got a couple of questions that I have a feeling are the type of thing - like the fancy parts going numb on the bike - that nobody talks about. But I have no shame so I'm putting it out there because inquiring minds want to know.

1) Is it normal to go from 'I could run forever' (after 30 minutes) to 'I'm going to die if I run one more step' (after 6 minutes) in two days and is it because of the PMS?

2) What the hell is up with my nipples burning like they're on fire? I learned about this after crossing the 30 minute run threshold last week. Not something I want to experience again if I can help it.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Warming Up to Cold Running

Thanks to everyone who gave me such great advice about cold weather running gear - I went shopping today and bought a base layer and running gloves. I LOVE getting new training stuff!!

I found a killer Under-Armour base, but of the gazillion types and colors there not a one had the thumbholes I really wanted. I agonized over it because I really loved the feel of the Under-Armour fabric, but I ended up with a very similar Nike one with holes. I dig thumbholes.

I also found an impressive selection of cold running pants that (gasp) would fit me except for the fact that they're all cut for Amazons. Seriously - do apparel manufacturers think all women are 5' 11"?

The only gloves I could find at that store were for snowboarding type sports, so my next stop was the dinky local running store where I found the perfect pair. My ulterior motive for going there was to get the scoop on the Thanksgiving 5K I decided to sign up for.

Turns out there's no official sign-up because it's basically free and you just show up with a canned food donation. So, I guess posting it here is as "official" as it's gonna get!

My Last Race of 2006:

Thanksgiving 5K
November 23rd, 8 am
Lippold Park, Crystal Lake

And here's a sneak-peak at the main reason I'm so psyched about running in the cold. It's not official yet - he has to be tested to see if he thinks cats are a food group - but if all goes well on Saturday this will be my new running buddy....

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

He's a Present-Shaker Too

Plopping down next to me on the couch earlier tonight, pretending to be nonchalant: "So. Where's the candy?"

"I don't know." Thinking: wow - he waited 8 whole hours.

"Weeelll. I don't think it's on the first floor."

"What are you basing that on?" Trying desperately to keep it breezy and not hint at the answer with the tone of the question while hoping he'll respond by telling me what clue I left behind so I can get better at this.

"Based on my preliminary sweep."

He reads my blog. I'm thinking about posting a picture of the hidden Halloween candy in situ to torment him with.

By the Numbers

Having an angsty 'I'm a giant hideous cow' moment, brought on by a Halloween costume sized by someone with an evil sense of humor. I erred on the side of conservative sizing because these things never fit the way they claim and I still got screwed.

I've gotta say when a label says it will fit between a 14 and 18 and you are a 14/16 top and a 16/18 bottom then it should fucking fit. It's bad enough that XL, 1X, etc does not mean the same thing from brand to brand so to buy clothes at my size you have to spend inordinate amounts of time researching the numbers behind the Xs. But when something gives numbers then damnit the numbers should mean what they mean. This costume is, at best, a 10/12. The PMS and 4 extra pounds of bloat didn't help the fit or my mood when I tried it on. The bonus round: I no longer have time to order a new costume before Saturday.

One more thing to keep me working towards my goal weight: not having to special order plus-sized Halloween costumes off the internet.

Sidebar only y'all can appreciate: I found an Athena costume. My husband thought it was hilarious and wanted me to get it. Problem is he and I would be the only ones at this particular Halloween party who'd get the triathlon joke so I decided not to.

In the interest of having numbers to be happy about today, here's the stats on the workout I just finished. These numbers may not always make me feel great, but at least they never lie to me.

Run time: 35 min (PR)
Run distance: 2.53 miles (PR)

1st mile: 14:25
2nd mile: 13:36

Monday, October 23, 2006

Five Thousand

As I approach my goal of running 5K for the first time, I also noticed that my blog is approaching its 5000th visitor.

I decided to celebrate these nearly concurrent milestones I would sign up for a 5K race in the near future, maybe one of the ubiquitous Turkey Trots.

Here's the catch: it's COLD around here!

I know there's races available, but I have no cold weather gear. In deference to my weak ankle, crappy knee cartilage and pathetic immune system I do most of my running indoors in general - all of it once the temperture drops below 60. But as my athletic horizons expand, so must my willingness to play outside in all temperatures.

I did some reading and some gear-surfing and have some vague ideas about what I need, but before I run off and blow a couple hundred bucks on cold weather running gear (by "cold" I mean "anywhere from -10 to 40 F"... but if it's less than 20 I'll probably bail) I thought I'd ask y'all for advice.

What do you recommend? What do you wear? Any brands to look for or avoid? I honestly don't even have the simplest base layer. Any and all suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

Operation Cat Trap: Frustration

Got a call this morning the trap was sprung. To our surprise it was an adult cat no one had seen before. That brings the total up to 7 - the momma (all black), the all-white one I learned today that someone saw Friday night, and the black & white one we caught today... plus the 4 kittens, 3 of whom are still at large.

It's a LONG story, but because she could technically be the momma the shelter said they'd take her. But they really didn't have room, so when I showed up they tried to evaluate her on the front porch.... you can guess what happened next. Even as she was saying she wanted to check her for fleas outside I was saying to myself 'this will not end well' and it didn't. She got away.

Needless to say I'm furious. I understand the shelter means well but rather than risk something like this happening trying to help they should have said "no, I'm sorry we're full, you'll have to find another place." And we would have gotten on the phone to do just that. Instead, all we accomplished was moving a scared cat from the place she was familiar with to a place she's not, with freezing overnight temperatures already here.

In the meantime, we're calling other area shelters just in case, because we're still setting the trap for the other 5...

Friday, October 20, 2006

Operation Cat Trap: Update

That trap was the best fifty bucks I ever spent. We got our first kitten!

Aside from a big ol' belly (probably worms) and some fleas he looks great - no evidence of respiratory or other infections. He's camping out in my spare bathroom until the shelter opens tomorrow. Even better, he's younger than the descriptions the employees gave led me to guesstimate, which means less time to go feral. After only an hour of being allowed to chill quietly he let me pick him up and he even snuggled up to me. He's gonna be just fine.

We got a picture of him after the extensive wrestling match to get him out of the trap (I'll post it tomorrow). I was officially his first human contact and he was having none of it - his impressive use of claws got him dubbed Freddie.

We're a little concerned because he's the only confirmed sighting since Wednesday. The others may well have moved on and he could have stuck around for the free food. We'll know soon enough - we just got back from resetting the trap and have arranged shifts for checking it all weekend.

Happy News

My cousin is home safe from Iraq. He's back at his Air Force base in Texas so we won't get to see him until next summer, but it's a relief to know he's no longer in danger.

Here's hoping the rest of the families in America waiting for their soldier get to say the same thing very soon.

On a Mission

My workout schedule has gone out the window the last few days, but I think you'll forgive me because it's for a good cause. I've got a mission.

Late Wednesday Night
Phone call from my friend and fellow cat-lover Deb. She just learned there's a momma with a litter of four living under the shed in the play yard at the child care center she runs. She wants to help them but is not an experienced animal person and doesn't know what to do. She did offer them food, which they promptly devoured, and she was able to get close enough to see the momma cat a flea collar, so at some point was used to people.

I gave her the names of every no-kill shelter for two counties and told her to get on the phone to see if anyone can take them in. (No point catching them if they have nowhere to go.)

Then I tell her I'll be over the next day with proper crates.

Thursday 1:00
I arrive to find the hidey-hole under the shed empty. But I was pleased to see the situation - this is one smart momma cat! She picked a nice dry spot under a shed sitting on artificial turf inside a brick-walled play yard accessible only through a locked gate. Cars in the parking lot aside, she couldn't have picked a safer spot to have her litter.

After patrolling the area (a momma leading a band of four kittens is bound to be conspicuous, but no luck) I left a can of the yummy stinky food near the hole with orders for her to check the food status, then I went back to work.

Thursday 4:30
My cell rings - it's Deb saying there was a kitten eating the food I'd left. I'm very behind on a project but this is important so I ditched work again and headed back to the college.

Of course, by the time I got there the kitten was gone again, but at least I finally had a better description of their size. I'm guessing they're close to 8 weeks - big enough to (unfortunately for us) be acting independently.

So now we're not catching a semi-friendly momma with babies, we're catching a semi-friendly momma and 4 feral kittens. There's nothing else for it - I need a trap.

I called my vet friend hoping they'd have one I could borrow, but before I could talk to her I managed to find out (Google anyone?) they're easy to get and quite affordable.

Friday Morning
I bought one this morning and just got back from setting it. With any luck, by this time tomorrow we'll have the first of these cold, hungry little kittens safe and sound at the no-kill shelter that agreed to take them. (Animal lovers interested in helping a small shelter that opened their arms to this family of 5 can visit their site for donation info.)

At this point I feel like if we don't catch them it will be all my fault, but I spoke with my vet friend and I'm doing everything possible. It will haunt me forever if I can't save them all, but even if we just save one it will have been worth it.

On a Mission

My workout schedule has gone out the window the last few days, but I think you'll forgive me because it's for a good cause. I've got a mission.

Late Wednesday Night
Phone call from my friend and fellow cat-lover Deb. She just learned there's a momma with a litter of four living under the shed in the play yard at the child care center she runs. She wants to help them but is not an experienced animal person and doesn't know what to do. She did offer them food, which they promptly devoured, and she was able to get close enough to see the momma cat a flea collar, so at some point was used to people.

I gave her the names of every no-kill shelter for two counties and told her to get on the phone to see if anyone can take them in. (No point catching them if they have nowhere to go.)

Then I tell her I'll be over the next day with proper crates.

Thursday 1:00
I arrive to find the hidey-hole under the shed empty. But I was pleased to see the situation - this is one smart momma cat! She picked a nice dry spot under a shed sitting on artificial turf inside a brick-walled play yard accessible only through a locked gate. Cars in the parking lot aside, she couldn't have picked a safer spot to have her litter.

After patrolling the area (a momma leading a band of four kittens is bound to be conspicuous, but no luck) I left a can of the yummy stinky food near the hole with orders for her to check the food status, then I went back to work.

Thursday 4:30
My cell rings - it's Deb saying there was a kitten eating the food I'd left. I'm very behind on a project but this is important so I ditched work again and headed back to the college.

Of course, by the time I got there the kitten was gone again, but at least I finally had a better description of their size. I'm guessing they're close to 8 weeks - big enough to (unfortunately for us) be acting independently.

So now we're not catching a semi-friendly momma with babies, we're catching a semi-friendly momma and 4 feral kittens. There's nothing else for it - I need a trap.

I called my vet friend hoping they'd have one I could borrow, but before I could talk to her I managed to find out (Google anyone?) they're easy to get and quite affordable.

Friday Morning
I bought one this morning and just got back from setting it. With any luck, by this time tomorrow we'll have the first of these cold, hungry little kittens safe and sound at the no-kill shelter that agreed to take them. (Animal lovers interested in helping a small shelter that opened their arms to this family of 5 can visit their site for donation info.)

At this point I feel like if we don't catch them it will be all my fault, but I spoke with my vet friend and I'm doing everything possible. It will haunt me forever if I can't save them all, but even if we just save one it will have been worth it.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Pool Hangover

Last night I had a couple of glasses of wine with dinner. It was nice - the last bottle of one of my absolute favorites (a Gewurztraminer) from a lovely little winery in Door County where we often vacation. As I stumbled into bed I realized perhaps I'd had more than I thought, and when I woke up this morning with a bit of a headache that suspicion was confirmed.

For obvious reasons I was a bit slow joining the land of the living today, and so missed my 9:15 weights class. I'd planned to lift and then swim, but because I have a ton of work to do and was already running late, once I felt good enough to exercise (around 10:30 - pathetic, huh?) I decided I'd have to skip lifting and just swim.

I stepped into the pool and the part of my brain that's recently developed into a pool thermometer spiked (as my husband would say, it's my mutant power emerging). Just with one foot in the water I'd have sworn on a stack of bibles it was at least 89 degrees, and I did not change that estimate once I was fully in.

I tried hard to do my laps properly - alternating sets of my newly learned (but still comically rough) breast and backstrokes. But I had to stop every few laps just to catch my breath. My headache returned within 200 yards. I grew increasingly queasy and gave up after only 30 laps (1/2 mile). The pool gave me a bigger hangover than my actual hangover.

On my way out the manager happened to be at the desk so I asked her if she knew the pool temp today. This isn't an unusual question - the water temp is an ongoing battle between the (very few) swimmers and the arthritic water aerobics classes. She looked uncomfortable and said "yeah, I know it's really warm today.... I saw it was 89."

Because it's so often too warm and they don't seem to be able to regulate it well I can only assume there's an issue with the heater. Regardless - I thought it was cool my estimate nailed the temp exactly. (I can do the same with the hot tub - which is always several degrees above the safe limit of 104 and generally so hot I can't even put my feet in.)

I don't mind having an occassional bad workout and I totally get that tmperature preferences of the dozens of patrons who take water aerobics every day take precedence over my 1-2 weekly swims... but I do mind that the headache it gave me is sticking around and is looking impact the rest of my day.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Two Birds

I went to the gym today with one goal, and came out having achieved two.

Ever since I started running - nearly two years ago - running for 30 minutes has been a goal of mine. It's an arbitrary number, to be sure, but back when it was all I could do to run 15 seconds out of every 5 minutes, it seemed like an epic destination that I may never reach.

I don't really know how to run, or how to train to run, so I've gone back and forth a lot between running for time and running for distance. In hindsight that was probably counterproductive, because I never really made any progress in either.

In the last couple of weeks I've enjoyed a lull in this year's absurd daisy-chain of illnesses and injuries with a simultaneous renewal of my committment to base training. And the results have been nothing but outstanding.

It took me 2 years to run that first mile. That was 10 months ago.

Since then I've desperately wanted to work that up to two, and three... honestly, at this point I can't even wrap my brain around anything farther than three. I had to let go of all my goals and grand plans this year and focus on healing and maintaining a basic fitness level in whatever manner my injuries would allow.

Now I can say I've reached that second mile - and beyond. 2.12, to be precise.

It happened when I was pursuing my original goal - the 30 minute run. Which I achieved in what is becoming typical fashion for me - starting at a 15:00 pace and gradually increasing speed as it feels good until my time is up (today's final pace: 13:20).

Maybe it's my born-and-raised midwestern winter blood, because even in the moderate fall weather I'm a cold-start engine like an old truck in January: great once I get going, but takes a long while to warm up. Even after a full 10 minute warm-up it's all I can do to scratch out the 15:00 pace when I start, but as each few minutes passes I feel stronger and faster and can pick things up.

I also find it interesting that these recent workouts - where I've been adding 5 running minutes to each - I've been getting a side stitch in the last 2 minutes or so with fascinating regularity. I think it's interesting that my body is so clearly telling me "ok, we processed the extra 5 minutes from the other day and it's all good, but you're only getting 5 more today."

It's hard for me to think that my formerly inconceivable 5K goal is now so clearly within my grasp. It's really hard for me to think that distances beyond that will follow close behind. I think it's time for me to open my mind regarding next year's race schedule - because now that I'm no longer limited by my run, the possibilities are endless.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Frustration

It's a gorgeous 59 degree day, probably the last of its kind for this year. Before I'd even brushed my teeth or put my contacts in this morning I'd put on my bike tights and jersey, ready for the ride I've been planning since Friday.

But here it is almost 4 hours later and I still haven't gone. I reeeaaaaally want to go. But my knees have been bothering me like crazy so I keep vacillating.

On the one hand, I did all kinds of running this week with them being mildly irritated and they seemed fine. On the other hand, I did all kinds of running this week with them being irritated and now they don't seem so fine, so going for a hilly 10 mile bike ride would likely be an irresponsible course of action.

I think maybe I'll go take the dog for a walk. That way I can say goodbye to my favorite bike roads for the year even if I can't bike them.

Friday, October 13, 2006

Things I Don't Need But Can't Live Without

I saw this in the back of an issue of Inside Triathlon and it made my geeked-out, gadget-loving little heart stop.

I. WANT. THIS. RIDICULOUS. THING.



Logic dictates that the bottle of water I pour over my sandy feet is just as effective. Easier, in fact, than blowing up a miniature kiddie pool and then finding a water source with which to fill it.

But for six bucks... ya know what? I'm SO buying it. Even better, I'll show it to my mother-in-law, who will hopefully put this in my stocking in lieu of the random oddities that usually find their way in (most often some form of bizarre office supply.) It's just such a damn good idea, even if I never use the thing I want to reward the guy who thought of it.

If you're one of those people I see carrying a mop bucket into transition for your T1 foot hygiene needs... please. Do yourself a favor and check out their website.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Moving Right Along

Wasn't sure I'd make it to the gym today, but I managed to squeeze in a quick run late this afternoon. It was hard to find the motivation - for some ridiculous reason it SNOWED today and that totally messed with our heads. But I also had an itch to run, so after finishing the most critical work and exercising no small amount of willpower I pretended there weren't icicles on my car in freakin' October and went.

I'm so glad did, because the result was nothing short of mind-boggling(times do not include warm-up or cool-down):

Time running: 25 minutes (PR)
Distance: 1.73 miles (PR)

I started at a 15:00 pace and gradually sped up, doing the last 10 minutes at a 14:00 pace.

Also, today I realized I'm still wearing the heel cups from my calf injury. Legs felt great after Tuesday's run, so I figured it was time to give it a shot without them. There was a noticeable difference - my left calf was a little tight and the right much more so. I had to pause twice to stretch it out, but otherwise everything was great.

I think it's time to make an appointment with the massage therapist for some more torture. Right now I feel invincible and like every running goal I've ever had is finally attainable. The last thing I need is for the 'little tight' to turn into another two-month training hiatus.

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Great Season Ender

I was recently invited to participate in a charity bike ride taking place this weekend. It's an annual event commemorating a couple of outdoor enthusiasts killed in a car accident on their way home from a bike race. The proceeds go to bike path maintenance in the area.

The more I learned about it the more I wanted to participate, and my friends are so enthusiastic about it we are now talking about making it an annual event. I love the concept because it's the closest I'm ever going to get to doing an event (can't call it a race) with nearly all my friends.

It's a 20 mile bike ride on paved roads (roadies and MTBs welcome) around Lake Geneva (Wisconsin) with periodic tavern stops. The event is essentially a leisurely ride with optional beer breaks followed by a pig roast.

Anyone in Southern Wisconsin/Northeastern Illinois interested in having a good time this weekend can visit the website to learn more: Fat Tire Memorial Tour

I was planning to attend, but my compatriots just had a schedule conflict arise so am wavering because this is definitely something to do with friends. If any tri-bloggers plan to go and are looking for company let me know.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Two Steps Back... Wait, how does that go?

This year has been the year of setbacks. Of being sick and injured with occassional bouts of insane busyness. My second season as a triathlete, and one in which I often debated if I deserved the title.

To date in 2006 I lost:
- 12 weeks of training to bronchitis
- about 6 weeks of swimming to a shoulder injury
- at least 8 weeks of running to the calf tears
- at least 6 weeks of running and cycling to the knee cartilage problem

So, it makes no sense to me that, to date in 2006 I have also:
- lost 12 more pounds
- lost about 7 minutes off my half-mile swim
- lost about 16 minutes off my mile swim
- lost 15 minutes off my sprint distance triathlon

And it really makes no sense to me that I found running this year.

To illustrate my point... I just got back from the gym. My first trip to the gym since I got hit with the latest round of bronchitis roughly 5 weeks ago. I was feeling pretty good about 2 weeks go, so of course promptly re-injured my right knee digging holes and am just coming back from that.

I went with caution, knee still a bit stiff but hoping I could get in maybe a 20 minute treadmill walk to ease back in.

I used to go into workouts with a grand plan and then scale it back as the workout progressed, inevitably excusing myself from pushing past my limits. But I don't do that any more. In fact, without even realizing it I've started doing the opposite.

So today, I got on and started to walk. After a minute or so of warm-up I thought "maybe I'll jog for 5 minutes of the 20."

So after a 5-min warm-up I started jogging at a 15:00 pace. About a minute into that I thought "hmm... this feels pretty good, a little slow even, maybe I'll jog for 10 minutes of the 20."

See where this is going? I wound up running for 20 full minutes, starting at a 15:00 pace and gradually increasing to a 14:00 pace. I later figured out I ran a total of about 1.4 miles - the farthest so far.

The best part was that I felt so good at the 20 minute mark that I felt 100% confident I could have kept running for a full 30 - something I've been working towards for a very long time. But between my doctor's recent warning to obey the 10% rule (this distance turned out to be perfect) and the fact that my knees were starting to talk, I called it a success and finished my cool-down.

This is a long-winded way of saying I'm baffled by my recent success considering the almost comical level of setbacks I've experienced this year. And it sure has got me to thinking about what I might be able to pull of next year...

Monday, October 09, 2006

Milestone

With everything else going on, this major milestone nearly got lost in the shuffle. It happened over a week ago but at the time I barely registered it. When I got on the scale this morning and saw it again, it finally hit me...

I have officially lost 50 pounds!!

Saturday, October 07, 2006

My Life Needs a Soundtrack

The last few days it's been the "Cops" theme.

I just got back from my hometown, where I helped move my mom out of my dad's house. In a frantic, when-does-he-get-home-from-work, where-does-he-hide-the-guns, holy-shit, grab-what-you-can-and-run, they're-coming-home-early kind of way.

I could go on for a very long time about the details, but it's an old story played out in countless abusive marriages. My family would be mortified that I even said that much about it, because of near certainty someone who knows who I am back back home might read this blog and spread the info around our small town. (So I gues I should say here if you do know who I am back home, please forget you read this post.) Anyway.

There was geniune fear. And a lot of tears. Threats, both physical and legal. But she stood in front of me enough times growing up, and it was my turn to stand in front of her. I went there fully prepared for him to start something ugly, and fully prepared for things to end with him in jail. However badly I could have gotten hurt, I would have enjoyed putting him there.

The saving grace was my brother. (Well, sort of brother. While we have no actual blood in common, on paper he is my brother. I've got one of those families you need a full-color diagram to explain.) He's the only one my dad will listen to, and he talked him into backing down from his impending violent tirade. For the moment he's being kind of civil.

My presence changed the dynamic of the situation in ways I would not have predicted, but was not actually surprised by. The fact I made the trip, that I came so far in the middle of a work week and was there for days... I guess that made it real for a few people, my dad included. It was hard on me - people clinging to me for strength and me with nobody to cling to. My poor husband feeling frustrated and helpless, still stuck on another continent for an extended business trip, getting updates only through my extremely limited internet access.

It was hard and scary and stressful but I'm glad I went and I would do it again. It's far from over, but at least I could make the trip back knowing she was, for the first time in many years, safe and sound.

I know this has nothing to do with triathlon, but the reason I decided to write about it is because as it was all happening all I could think about was how I would not have been able to handle this if I hadn't become a triathlete. Every time I picked up a huge box I thanked my training. Every time I ran from the van up the front porch steps through the house up the stairs to grab the next set of clothes from her closet, I thanked my training. Every time I passed my aunt and sister-in-law running while they paused for a breather and (to my dismay considering the urgency) a cigarette, I thanked my training. And every time I started to feel myself failing, slowing down, hurting, crying with pain and frustration and exhaustion and hunger and found it inside me to keep going until it was done, I thanked my training.

I had to do one thing my training taught me not to - I had to play through the pain. Last weeked I planted a bunch of landscaping and the patello-femoral cartilage problem in my right knee flared up badly. So I had to do all this running and stair-climbing and lifting and carrying with a knee so stiff I'd been limping for days. I knew I'd have a price to pay and I am paying it now, but a few weeks off biking and running is more than worth what I was able to accomplish.

Monday, October 02, 2006

IMWI Weekend Adventure Sunday 4

While I looked for the captain to get my next assignment, I got to help family members desperate for news of their racers. It's not an official job or anything, just every time I tried to leave the room someone would notice my crew shirt and ask me to look for their athlete's bag. It was nice to offer the good news to several worried family members that the bag was gone and they were likely on the run.

The gear bag captain seemed surprised that I actually came back - I guess it's not common for volunteers to be that reliable. She was grateful that I offered to stay late and help, and then entrusted me with a large pile of timing chips from athletes who chose to drop at T2 that needed to be turned in. I was happy to help, and excited for an excuse to check out the finish line.

As I got my first glimpse of amazing view of the Capital over the finish chute, I
heard those magical words through the loudspeakers over and over again: "You Are An Ironman!!!!" As thrilling as it was to be there, the irony of my errand was not lost on me, and I quietly completed my task and went back to Ballroom C.

My first glimpse of the finish chute.

On my way back to work I bumped into Manitoba Guy's wife just as he was coming from the changing room in search of a massage. I happened to have just seen there wasn't a wait, so showed him in and wished them well.

As soon as T2 officially closed the gear bag volunteers were on to the next task - gathering up all the gear bags and putting them in numerical order for the athletes to pick up. There are nearly 8000 bags in all. Even though they are officially not available for pick-up until after 6:00, there weren't even enough volunteers to actually pull the bags together, let alone to police the family, friends and athletes who were breaking through our meager defenses (a handwritten sign on the door) to dig through them. While I had broken the 6:00 rule in the T2 room, sneaking bags to tearful athletes who'd dropped and desperately wanted to go home, I maintain that it's different. There's a lot more certainty involved when an official volunteer locates your bag and confirms your race number than when your mom roots through all the bags and then leaves out the wrong door and gets past the volunteers verifying race numbers.

Before I got too deeply into bag sorting I paused to talk with an athlete in the changing room. She'd been brought in off the bike course and was distraught that she hadn't been able to finish the ride. She had limited expectations for her race - had really just hoped to make it through the bike - and was being quite hard on herself that she hadn't met them. I told her about the elites I'd heard about that dropped shortly after the swim and her spirits were raised considerably to think she made it farther than some of them. Then the medical volunteer praised her for allowing them to drive her in (she had heavily debated finishing the ride after they took her chip), and told us stories of athletes she'd treated who were dangerously hypothermic (one such racer had a pulse of 41) and had literally said "fuck you" when she suggested they discontinue the race. I don't really know if I helped her much, but by the time the three of us finished talking she seemed in better spirits, and was no longer claiming she'd never race again.

Then it was back to the bags. I didn't mind that people were picking stuff up ahead of time. I get that they were cold and tired and wanted to leave. What I did mind was the ones who were not particularly nice to us when they couldn't find a bag, and the ones who sorted rudely through the bags, pulling them out of order and not putting them back. This served the dual purpose of creating extra work for us and creating a hazardous situation by filling the narrow aisles with jumbled piles of previously organized bags. I should state for the record I never saw this from an athlete - they were wonderful, and grateful for the assistance in getting their gear - it was from their supporters who had no understanding of the monumental task we were trying to perfom with maybe a third of the necessary people.

I helped a lot of staggering athletes step over the enormous piles of bags on their way to the changing rooms. I picked up a lot of bags for athletes that couldn't bend over to do it. I found one athlete curled up asleep on a pile of bags. And in between I was running back and forth to the changing rooms, where the remaining (several hundred) gear bags were staged for sorting. This is a simple task, but it takes a lot of effort and we were extremely short-handed. Even though my shift had long since ended I couldn't leave - I'd have felt too guilty enjoying a break and a snack knowing they were still struggling to finish all that work. It got so bad the gear bag captain was actually recruiting helpers from the family members who were sitting around waiting for their athletes to arrive.

I should note that directing post-Ironman athletes through this felt a lot like herding cats. I can't tell you how many dazed men I shooed away from the women's room, even after pointing out the men's. I saw one wide-eyed man being escorted out by another volunteer, and when I went in I heard the nude athlete laughing that it was too bad she didn't have much for him to see. There were no signs and this was at least the tenth time that day I wished I'd brought a marker.

Around 8:00, now two hours past when my shift officially ended, my feet were throbbing and I found myself staring blankly at the bags, no longer able to decipher the numbers. I realized I was going to start doing more harm than good - there were enough bags in the wrong spots as it was - and regretfully said my goodbyes to the Gear Bag Captain, who thanked me effusively for staying late.

As I was leaving the gear bag pick-up room I bumped into Tri-Blogger Chris. He looked amazingly fresh considering he'd just finished an Ironman. We chatted for a bit and then I headed for the finish line.

Iron Chris

As I headed for the finish line I realized I was hungry and thirsty - I'd finished off all the soda and water I had in my backpack and I was parched from the cold medicine and hours of running around - so I stopped by the volunteer tent for a few minutes. I had a little pop, some damp pretzels (you know you're hungry when that's a good thing!), half a banana and part of a stale bagel. The best part was sitting down for a few minutes. I chatted with the very nice ladies staffing the tent - they didn't know anyone racing, didn't even really know anything about triathlon. Just really nice people who live in Madison and wanted to help out.

After thanking them for the food, shelter and rest I went down to the finish chute with a half-formed plan. I wanted to see my friends finish, wanted to stay to the end if I could, but I did not want to stand around doing nothing for three hours getting colder and wetter. Problem was, I didn't have the right color crew shirt or the right kind of wrist band. So, fingers crossed, I walked right up to a guard, said I was there to work, flashed my bright yellow (transition!! - the finish chute bands were blue) wristband and he let me in. I approached the first work station I came to, told them my other shift had ended and asked if they needed help. They were just as short on volunteers as everyone else that day, and had me working before I even had a chance to set my bag down. Too my very pleasant surprise, as I began my new task I looked up to see I was standing not two feet from RobbyB, whom I'd met at Simply Stu's dinner.

I hadn't officially signed up for a finish chute job because I wasn't sure what to expect; I didn't want to get in over my head and let someone down. I'm glad it worked this way my first time because I had a perfect view of everything (except, ironically, the actual finish line) and was able to figure out what the various jobs were and confirm for myself I can do them all. I will definitely sign up for finish line duty next year; I can't always count on lax security to get me in!

The task I helped with when I first walked in was done quickly, then they moved me over to take the place of a woman whose shift on the finisher bags was just ending - this was where I stayed until the very end. The finisher shirts are inside the bags with a hat and bumper sticker; after the catchers ask each finisher their shirt size they ask us for a bag. It's extremely fast-paced at times, and it takes two people to do it, one with a size in each hand, and a back-up person bringing over fresh boxes as they empty out.

It sounds kind of boring when I explain it - hearing "small medium medium large small medium x-large medium medium" for hours on end and handing out bags - but it really wasn't and I had a lot of fun. Some of the catchers had cute little sign language they did so you were ready before they got there, sometimes me and the other guy would try to guess the sizes before they got there - the Ironman version of the 'boxers or briefs' game. Silly, sure, but we laughed a lot and the 3 hours passed lightning fast, in spite of my obsessive watch checking and looking for TriSaraTops and Iron Wil and Pharmie and all the rest. The older gentleman I was partnered with was another kind soul who didn't know a thing about the sport, but lived in Madison and enjoyed helping out.

Looking pretty pathetic after 15 hours, but still having fun.


Around 10:30 the rain started coming heavier and my heart went out to the athletes still on the course.

The heaviest rain I saw on race day.

When the captain said we were running low on Medium shirts I pulled one out and wore the bag the rest of the night, just in case. I didn't know if Iron Wil had finished yet - but I had learned from RobbyB that TriSaraTops had. In any case, if she came in I wasn't going to let her go without the right shirt size.

After the countdown to 17 hours there was a frenzy at the finish line so I walked down to find out what was happening - two older gentlemen were carrying each other down the chute, and though they arrived nearly 2 minutes past, the race officials said they were finishers. One of them was Frank Farrar. I saw a young man run down the chute, looking around wildy - then he leapt over the table I'd been standing at all night, grabbed a chair and ran back. I couldn't see where he went because this was the same time I was being pushed out of the way by the news cameras surrounding Frank. I would later learn the young man was Lisa's friend Ben, getting a chair for the gentleman who came in with Frank.

As I backed away from the cameras I saw one of the catchers running over to the finisher bags and the captain arguing with her that he wasn't allowed to give them after midnight. She said a man's name (I don't remember it, but my impression was that he was in charge) and that he was insisting they get finisher gear. She grabbed two bags from a box and ran back to the men - I noticed that she had grabbed XXLs, quietly pulled out a couple of Ls and caught her before they gave him the bag on camera.

There was nothing left for me to do, and I was beyond exhausted. I got my bag, went back to the hotel and crashed.

On my way out of town the next morning I made a stop. I walked a well-worn path through the trees and stood on the lakeshore, contemplating Monona Terrace and what it means to me as an aspiring Ironman. I was about to kick off my shoes and step into the water. I wanted to feel it on my skin, to make this moment my first symbolic step towards my ultimate goal. Before I could perform this silly little ceremony an enormous cloud of mosquitos descended on me and I ran back to the van. But that's ok. Because like my husband said, there's always next year.