countdown to corner brook, pt 4

thanks for all the good wishes for my race. it's this saturday, the 29th, and here's the info. i should be going off at 9am.

"should" i say because on saturday i tweaked my hammie again while doing some fartleks. i wasn't doing anything outrageous, running maybe 7:30 mile pace, when i felt a frisson of badness in my semitendinosus. 10sec later everything seized up and i hobbled home -- quickly, because i didn't want to be late for J's wedding.

it hurts to walk now. rudy will weigh in this afternoon. all i want now is a clear path forward. i'm tired of babying this injury and, on every run, wondering when/if the shit will hit the fan. if i need to take 12 weeks off running to heal this (like you said at the very first, FMC), sobeit.

meanwhile i will have a great time in newfoundland with D and my folks. there's not much else i could have done or can do.

i'm flying out tomorrow, returning next tues.

peace.

countdown to corner brook, pt 3

my team kit came yesterday. american women are in blue & white this year.

there are two things wrong with this picture, AFAICS:

1.) orca forget to screen on the Team USA logo. oops. guess i'll be racing as a bandit.
2.) it's teeny -- just a sports bra and daisy duke shorty-shorts. where on EARTH am i supposed to put my wobbly parts??

shipping a bike to canada is a lot more complicated than i thought it'd be. we couldn't ship it from rik's shop this morning, so i'm now toting it around the city of wilmington in my trunk/back seat, hoping just HOPING i can pass it off to FedEx or DHL sometime today.

vacation? this is no vacation. this is a logistical pain in the ass. especially on 4 hours of sleep a night because of the fucking Tour. i take back everything i said about this year being kinda snoozers. landis was an inspired man yesterday. and today -- the race of truth, the indiv TT.

i am exhausted but have miles to go before i sleep. if we didn't have mice -- i saw one run across the floor yesterday while i was eating lunch -- i'd curl up under my desk and hide from all my deadlines.

countdown to corner brook, pt 2

it's taper time! now that the race is less than 10 days away, the only things that will make me stronger for the 29th are rest and short, sharpening stuff.

yesterday i shoehorned in my last hard workout before corner brook: 24mi ride with 30min of tempo followed by a 30min trail run. bike felt great; run was so-so -- my rhythm's coming back slowly but i haven't fully opened up my stride because when i start to, my lateral hammie and sciatic nerve begin to quibble and i back down.

hash worked on me for 2 hours tues and wed; today he's flying to LA to meet maria sharapova, his client for the next 6 weeks.

-- what're the biggest differences between working with the men's soccer team and a tennis player? i asked him, trying to take my mind off his fingers in my hamstring.
-- i'm not sure right now... but for one thing i didn't have to contend with the guys' parents.

apparently maria's dad is very territorial.

tonight i pack up my bike -- well, rik packs my bike -- to ship it to the hinterland, where it will hopefully arrive intact. what can Brown do for me? treat my machine gently.

poor floyd. he picked a bad day to feel crappy.

for those in need of heroes

in Je t'aime, Zizou, sydney morning herald columnist james button offers an eloquent take on the man, and his final moments on the pitch:

After the taunt, Zidane walked away from Materazzi, stared at him for a few long seconds, then moved towards him. It was as if, in front of 2 billion spectators, he chose his fate. As if he chose his mother over his motherland, sticking up two fingers to fairytales and imaginary multicultural bliss. And so the France of 1998 became the France of 2006.

bravo button, y zizou.

floyd in yellow

so landis is leading the tour after the first day in the alps, and he's placed himself in a good position to nail an american victory for the 8th year in a row. the french just can't get a break.

even though floyd's a local dude from just 'cross the border in PA, i can't get jazzed up on this Tour. sure, i'm sleep-deprived from watching OLN's daily coverage, but if phil liggett and paul sherwen weren't so entertaining, it'd be a bit snoozers, IMO, aside from sprint finishes where robbie mcewen pops out from nowhere after taking a mad zaggity line into a just-opened hole and then unleashes a pocket-rocket explosion nobody can challenge. poor boonen gave up and pulled out yesterday, while robbie hung in and led the autobus.

maybe the next couple days in the mountains will bring more attacks, and more excitement, but i think cycling fans in general are dispirited with the sport after the Fuentes allegations. how can we defend cycling against the nay-sayers who brush off apparent heroism and herculean efforts by commenting, "they're all on drugs anyway"? are they? i couldn't understand why someone who's so in tune with his body -- and who's confronted his own mortality as armstrong did -- could wilfully endanger it by taking EPO. but E had another view. it's like an addiction, he posited. take smokers. they know there's a good chance smoking will kill them, but they do it anyway. doping as an addiction? that puts a new light on it.

in the spirit of honesty and transparency, i feel i've gotta confess to this addiction: ice-cream flavored Skittles (limited edition). skittles and a liter of diet coke will get you through a week of road-tripping to NIN shows on the east coast and alternately ensure you're somewhat functional during the three weeks of late-night tour coverage.

i turned klim onto the new skittles.
- ice cream flavored?
- yeppers.
- what do they taste like?
- sugar. they taste like pure sugar.

she was skeptical at first, but now she's an addict too -- and we're not the only ones. she even thinks they taste like ice cream.

what's yer poison of late?

countdown to corner brook, pt 1

during a recovery ride with E last week, a big question came to light after the fifty-millionth mental loop of MIA's Bucky Done Gone.

- okay, here's a question. what percentage of the day would you say you have a song in your head? on average.
- on average? -about one percent.
- one percent? that's all?
- yeah. and i'm guessing you're upwards of ninety to a hundred. every race report you write revolves around whatever song is in your head. you're like an ipod set on shuffle.
- that is untrue. i am an ipod set on repeat... only one percent?? really?
- yes. and that's normal.

so much for validation.

medial hamstring continues to improve, thanks to the bruising ministrations of rudy and hash. compensating lateral hamstring has become crankly, so i have a new bruise line running down that as well. small children stare at me in awe. jaded adults wonder if i'm a battered wife.

ran 5 miles of slow trail on sunday and was sore yesterday. i continue to keep my head buried in the sand, blithely trusting that in the next 10 days i'll drop my mile pace from 8min to 6min.

and if i can't? well, at least i'm not in lebanon.

damage update

after 2nd round of rudy's Manhandling:





it's like you're black, but only in that one spot, lou observed.

ted nugent on deer hunting

A British journalist asked Ted Nugent, "What do you think the last thought is in the head of a deer before you shoot it? Is it, `Are you my friend?` or is it `Are you the one who killed my brother?'"

Nugent replied, "They aren't capable of that kind of thinking.

All they care about is, 'What am I going to eat next, who am I going to screw next, and can I run fast enough to get away.

They are very much like the french in that way."

new mantra

WWZZD

better ppl than me will weigh in ad nauseum on this so suffice it to say that the man is human, and a badass.

i would have given good money to see federer do the same to nadal, and tom boonen the same to robbie. there's nothing wrong with a little drama now & then.

mothers, don't let your kids tear a hamstring

fisch pulled strings and got me on rudy's docket yesterday, bypassing the whole "need a prescription from your doctor and we'll see you in 2 weeks" bullshit. "any runner of coach fischer we get in right away," rudy told me. saints, both of 'em.

rudy draped my foot over his shoulder and after about 10 seconds of probing found a 3cm tear deep in my intermedial hamstring.

-- what are you feeling right now? i asked.
-- well, it's like muscle fibers run north & south. a tear is a perpendicular break in the flow, as though you've sliced partway through a rope, fraying the fibers and sending them every which way.
-- oh. what do you do?
-- rest and ice and regular deep tissue massage only get you so far: the muscle will mend, but there'll be a lot of scar tissue that builds up in the meantime, and that means the healed muscle won't be as strong. what i'm going to do is push those frayed fibers back together, so they're going north-south again.
-- like deep tissue. like denise's massages.
-- no. not like denise. you like denise. you will hate me. i'm going to work on you for 3 minutes, but it'll seem like an hour. but it's just 3 minutes i promise. and during that time, i won't take anything you say to or about me personally.

whatever, dude. i've met pain before. knitting my obliques back together after my iliac bypass surgery was pretty bad, and then all the lymph and blood moved downward into my labia and for a couple days i had a testicle. very painful, but also kinda novel. i know pain. or so i thought.

when rudy laid into that intermedial i almost bit my lower lip clean off. the pain was so sharp, immediate and overwhelming that i could see it. mr. asshole sado-man behind me then demanded i bend my knee to raise & lower my foot slowly.

-- oh, and finn? i heard through a fog of agony. it'd be nice if you breathed.

right.

i took my ujjayi breathing and went someplace else for a while. when rudy finished an hour (well, 3min) later, i peeled myself off his table and swayed, disoriented and exhausted.
-- there'll be some bruising, he said cheerfully. i'll get you an ice pack and see you again monday. 3 or 4 more sessions of this is all you'll need.
-- 3 or 4 more sessions of this and i could be DEAD, i said in my head, still too cognitively impaired to move my mouth beyond monosyllables.
-- by the end of next week you'll feel 90% better. two or three weeks from now you can go back to intensive training. you'll be healthy and strong for the 29th.

rudy is The Man.

yes

rudy says:
i'm going to worlds.

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

the damage so far

my pulled hamstring has resulted in physiological, psychological and financial trauma. and by financial i'm not even talking about the extra massages or PT visits to address the physical manifestations. i'm talking shopping as a coping mech, pure & simple.

before last week, i hadn't bought a new bra in about 6 years. if you've driven by my house when my laundry's on the line, you know some of my underwear's hanging together by a thread.

now, thanks to a sudden surfeit of free time (what to do after work, before cocktails?), i am this much richer (or poorer depending on your accounting):

• 4 bras (so comfterbles)
• 8 panties
• 2 running shorts (for when i can run again)
• 2 running tops (one very very red. o i luvs it.)
• 2 pairs of jeans
• 1 pair cargo pants
• 2 tops which fit perfectly

i need to stop now before i end up in shoe stores.

am hoping to sneak in today or tomorrow to see rudy, renowned repairer of busted hamstrings and erstwhile PT for the US soccer team. after taking 5 days off running and the bike, i tried to run on tuesday. it took one step for the hamstring to become a Factor and 90sec for it to seize entirely, putting a considerable damper on the fireworks that evening.

must get better. the Morsel and i have a running date on sunday. if he knew what nefarious designs i have upon his person he would not be so eager....

worlds are still up in the air.

another hero, fallen

Operation Puerto has claimed another victim: the already-embattled, vanishing-twin, american-as-apple pie tyler hamilton.

quoth velonews:

In Monday's edition of El País, the paper cited secret police and court documents alleging that Hamilton not only engaged in banned blood transfusion practices, but also used EPO, anabolic steroids, human growth hormones and IGF-1 (insulin-like growth factor 1) during his collaboration with [spanish doctor Eufemiano] Fuentes. [full article]

in addition to connecting hamilton's name with fuentes' code "4142," invesigators confiscated #4142's racing schedule, medical log, and an invoice fuentes faxed to a girona hotel c/o "haven parchinski."

if you've ever read a tyler race report or update, you know about his dog named tugboat (RIP) and his wife, haven. it's an odd name that sticks with you. but "parchinski"?? happens to be her maiden name.

tyler's protesting his innocence, again, but those of us who held him up as the hero with the broken collarbone and huge heart in the Tour three years ago are pretty disappointed. while lance sits on an entirely different level, untouchable by mere mortals, tyler always seemed like the guy next door who worked hard and made good.

on the other hand, i've got new respect for some pro cyclists. that shit is expensive.

"we need dirty dirty girls"

Snakes on a Plane booty call in LA (from craigslist):

Snakes On A Plane Music Video Needs Booty Girls!!!!

We need dirty dirty girls who want to shake their asses in our video. Are you one? Do you know one?

Become part of Pop-Culture History!!!

The official video for Captain Ahab's Snakes on the Brain, featured in the film "Snakes on A Plane" will be filming next weekend and we are in need of BOOTY GIRLS. If you've got junk in the trunk and think you've got what it takes to shake on camera, Hit us up!!!!

Extras are also Welcome!!!!!

1 day shoot 3-6 hours --Sun. 07/09

possibly 2days--Sat. 07/08

Booty Girls/Babes will provide own wardrobe. suggestions:
• Bikinis preferably metallic, but any bikini or bikini top will do
• Sunglasses (locs, gangsta shades)
• Thong Underwear
• Weird hip hop tops
• Butt shorts
• Ball caps
• Lip liner make up
• Stripper Shoes
• Bling (gold chains and shit! $ signs!)
• No green! No Brand Name LOGOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Independant Production

Send Headshot or something close.
Meal, Cred, Copy
no nudity guaranteed!!!

in other words, skinny white bitches need not apply.

my ass is substantial, but not that substantial.

speaking of the SKB, if you've not checked out geoffrey chaucer's blog, a great intro is his Interview wyth Parys, of the Lyf Symple.

finally, read ulysses along with me a page a day. if i'd had my act together i'd have started on bloomsday, but back then i was happy and didn't need to drown my sorrows in literature (instead of riding & running this weekend, i was reduced to reading. urk.) Heap Big Revelation: drinking really doesn't make it better (a lesson i'll have purged by friday).