first "race" of the year

returned to the running racing circuit this weekend. legs are quite certain of this, my iliotibial bands and calves plangently so. i feel like i ran a marathon though it was only 10miles. the highlight of my warmup was being chased by a yappy and tantalisingly puntable yorkie, leash trailing behind it. i gave its owner a WTF look as i ran by; he just chuckled tolerantly. o funny dog, the things you do!

anyway, the point of the run, to moi anyway, was not to race but rather do a nice tempo effort with 370 of my closest friends. the cannon fired (yes we get started by a cannon because we are DELAWARE and what we lack in size we make up for in sheer noyz) and king dave, with whom i'd done a killer 4000yd workout in the pool the day before, pulled up to me and inquired about my target pace. tempo, i said, and you? sticking in the low 7s, said he, and then getting down to 6:45s at the half. serendipity! - i thought, for that was exactly what i wanted to do and now i had company, but by the time i wrapped up that compound thought king dave was out of sight and i didn't clap eyes on him again until the gatorade table at the finish.

the first mile went by and i was way off my intended pace; second mile passed the same; but it felt right so i didn't push. we climbed up to rockford park and i started to pass a stream of people petering on the hill. as we approached the halfway turn-around i was surprised to see there were only a dozen or so women ahead of me. oh whatever i'm running my own pace, right? i passed a couple more on the way down from rockford and then with 2 miles to go there were 4 women in striking distance.

do you see where this is going?
do you understand why i whimper when i walk down steps?

i let one woman pull me closer to the others. a quarter mile from the finish there's a 200m climb that goes straight up, and i thought that if i got close enough before the hill i could knock some of them off there because if i'm catching you at the end of a 10mile race you're probably not going to be able to counter on a hill.

i passed one, then two, three, and the fourth as we crested the hill and hit a headwind that almost blew me backwards. i was not a happy kid but i knew i'd be even less happy if the woman behind me had something left for the straightaway dash to the line so i pegged it for about 30sec and then did something only cowards do – looked back – but i'd enough of a gap to cruise in without popping a lung onto pennsylvania ave.

turns out i was 5th overall; 6-9th finished within 20 sec. so much for my tempo run.

it is good to be back.

LC du worlds, or Accomplishing the Preposterous

a month ago i was moaning to fatmammycat about the preposterous conceit of running 16miles at worlds when i could barely manage 3 on the treadmill. preposterous is just another fancy arsed word for ludicrous - she responded - and we KNOW ludicrous is easily bitch slapped senseless when up against reservoir deep. she was right.

long course du worlds
18k run – 78k bike – 9k run

if you're a cyclist, you can't do much better than belgium. there are usually smooth, glass-free dedicated bike lanes and when there aren't, drivers yield to you instead of firing invective and anything else they can find behind the passenger seat.

and the belgians know how to put on a race. the day before worlds, the local organisers treated us to an escorted pre-ride of a bike course that zigged and zagged through downtown geel before shooting back and forth between a couple roundabouts. we were in a rolling enclosure the entire time, protected by motos that would stop traffic along sidestreets, drop back behind and then zoom to the next intersection in a finely-coordinated dance. i felt like i was in the Tour. and nobody crashed or made any bone-headed moves. if we'd been triathletes there'd have been bodies all over the road.

one thing the race organisers couldn't do was control the weather, and when i woke before dawn on race-day morning a fine mist was falling from the sky, and it continued to fall off & on over the next 6 hours, just enough to keep the roads wet and the corners & cobbles slightly treacherous. but at least it wasn't hot!

after a short warmup i hit the loo for one final time and had a panic moment when i emerged to find transition empty and the start not where i thought it was. but it's not a proper race unless you almost miss the start, and once i was there standing behind the line cares and anxieties vanished. racing is the reward for all the BTW workouts, the packing, the visualising of bike in's and run out's, the 8th nervous poo; and once you're on the start line, you can relax because the hard stuff's done. fisch and the Oracle had laid out my race strategy so i didn't even have to think, just execute.

the first run was 4 laps of a 4.5k course that offered a couple out & backs so you could track how many people were in front of you -- and there were a LOT. the women's field wasn't big – about 50 – and half of them were ahead of me after the first 5k. the 40+ men had started 2 minutes ahead, and the fields began to mix halfway in. oh great - my pal bob had lamented before the race - i've got 2 minutes before all the estrogen in the world comes up my ass.

i ran with a couple other Team USA women for the first 2 laps because they were running a relaxed, loose pace. whatever you give up on the first run will more than come back to you on the second – the Oracle said – long course is very forgiving of a slow start. every couple k's i did a reality check to make sure i wasn't running 10min miles and looked for my teammate rich from NC, because his big happy grin reminded me how very cool it was just to be here in the first place.

i ran up on a german dude in a skinsuit and pulled alongside to pass. he was having none of this, however, and sped up a little. klaus the german was tall, and we were turning into a windy section, so i slotted behind and nestled in his draft. klaus was awesome. everytime i thought we were going a little too slow i'd run abreast of him and he'd speed up again. klaus was very accommodating, and he pulled me almost all the way to a clump of women just ahead. hooray for klaus.

in T1 i sacrificed some time stretching a couple talkative ITBs and then took off on the bike. the course was never boring: there was always something to do, like corner on cobblestones, wend your way through the feedzone and exploding waterbottles, and finesse a 180 on a 2-lane highway. at race pace, that 180 was an entirely different animal from the pre-ride, and on the first of the 4 laps i had to unclip and tap my way around it. oopsie! - i sang to a course marshal who seemed disappointed by the lack of drama. the second time around that 180 i was more bold, but the 3rd time i creeeeeeeeept around it like the bike and i were made of fine china. there was someone hot on my wheel as i came into the turn, someone who had to stutter to a crawl when i slowed down to minus-70mph inching around the barricade. when we straightened out the suffering soul shot by on my left – none other than klaus! oh, how he must hate my very bones.

the bike felt good, however, and i passed some women out there so i knew i was making up time. in my head were many voices: fisch, the Oracle, slick rik, fatmammycat and eileen the YMCA lifeguard who oversaw my snail-toils in the deep-end with the AquaJogger. you're going to do great, i just know it – she'd declared, as though all my bones were properly knit together. this host of voices nearly drowned out the irish washerwoman jig on the mental jukebox but not quite.

in T2 i nearly toppled over because my legs were so racked from the bike, but i decided to go with my flats instead of the trainers i took out for the first run. might as well give that mending metatarsal a test! i craved sugar too, so i rifled through my transition rucksack for a bag of jelly beans (Brachs, brah), stuffed them in my singlet pocket and shuffled into the second run. my feet felt like inanimate blocks, and i ran like frankenstein... but at least i had jelly beans. i rummaged in my pocket, cellophane snapping so loudly that a dude ahead of me flinched. i stuffed a handful in my mouth, oh the licorice ones are the BEST, just as the man turned around to see what all the commotion was about. i grinned at him, a big black goofy grin, and he shuddered and turned back around. jelly beans are great, see, because you can mash them to the roof of your mouth where they'll stay until the engine room calls for a little more gas, and you swirl your tongue up there and get some.

after a couple minutes the things at the ends of my legs started to feel like feet again... and look, here's klaus! hello klaus, how happy you must be to see me. would you like some jelly beans? no?? klaus did not have a good second run. i hope this is not because i bullied him too much in the first, being a chick and all.

i caught a couple more women and from the out & backs determined there were about 5 more ahead of me as i neared the finish. what i didn't know was that i was first in my age group until i crossed the line and the PA announced me a world champion. way to go, delaware! - deepak called from the stands and high-fived me as i headed toward the post-race eats, difficult to get down because of the shit-eating grin on my face.

and thus began a 10 or 12hr "recovery" period which FMC has already described. 'tis good to have friends.

The Oracle is fallible

SC du nats
richmond, VA
10k run -- 40k bike -- 5k run

went to duathlon nationals this weekend with the goal of qualifying for short-course worlds in rimini, italy. the Oracle predicted a podium finish; instead i finished way out of the running in 8th place. he was baffled.

- i looked at the results and i saw your first run and i thought 'what happened?' then i saw the bike, and i said 'oh, no.' and then i saw that second run and i thought, 'what the heck was she doing?' what WERE you doing, finn?

he was referring to how i stunk up the first run and the bike, and then came back with the 2nd fastest 5k of all the women, even the pro's.

- did you think you were racing a 5K? - he continued - with a really long warmup?
- i was doing my OWN race - i said petulantly.

the simple explanation is that halfway through 10K my left quad got tighter and tighter, finally seizing up so badly that i had to stop to stretch it out. you must have been panicking - sympathised laf, but there was no panic. i knew the pain, and i thought it might ease up if i gave it time. so while athletes filed by on their way across the Robert E. Lee bridge i gave it time and eventually i could run again, slowly.

i lost even more time in the first half of the bike because i was a bit shattered mentally, and quads that'd been burning all week weren't feeling much better. the lead men rocketed by me as though i were on my trainer, and when a particularly fetching specimen with "severance" white-lettered on his backside passed me i must confess to wandering down a mental detour which involved a lot of "ances": impotence, deliquescence, pestilence and deliverance. [FYI hootchiemama cyrus severance, 28yo from denver, finished 12th.]

the course was slick with rain and there were many casualties: to crashes, flats and dérailleurs that plum jammed on a climb out of riverside; and midway through the bike it occurred to me that if i simply hung in there i might do okay. out of sheer perseverANCE. so i rallied a bit, gained a little more confidence on the torturous curves and finished the bike strong(er).

- but hey, at least your transitions were good! - the Oracle observed. if i could get all my shit aligned in one race i'd be absolutely fucking deadly... but what would be the fun in that??

after a painless T2 i headed out for the 5K and felt transcendent. i caught a ton of people - what do you expect when they have been working their arses off for the past 2 hours and you've been knocking about in la-la-land? my quad was loose, my hamstrings were open and i could run unencumbered. i passed the 2nd place woman in my age group 100m from the line, on a climb. as i approached the final timing mat i heard julieblue, winner of my AG and 3rd F overall. you're going to worlds, babe! and i am. twice.

though we be fallible, the Oracle and i have got me qualified for short- and long-course du worlds, an impressive feat for april. there is much work to do before belgium and italy, but for the next week or so there's a lot of lazing about, reading of books and tollhouse cookie workouts. and there will be uisge fer shure.

going to long-course du worlds

LC worlds qualifier
6 april, north carolina
8k run - 53k bike - 8k run

in early april i'm usually emerging from hibernation, dusting off the tri bike and slouching into speedwork. this year the first race of the season was the regional qualifier for long course duathlon worlds this summer. who knows the strange ways of USA Triathlon? not i.

because of the rude beginning to the season, and because i'd like to step up the game this year, i appealed for coaching advice to someone whom i revere as much for his attitude as his storied athletic career. he graciously accepted and under this oracle's direction i have bitched, whined and wept over my top tube; but here it is april and i'm standing at the start of an A race feeling entitled to one of the top 2 slots in my age group that will send me to belgium in august. i feel entitled because i've done my homework and the Oracle and i have a Strategy. we didn't want to change too many things in my first race in 6 months, so the strategy is pretty simple: go hard and don't fuck up the transitions like i usually do.

8k run
the run course is flat and fast, if you're fast. i'm not. i'm safe, content to sit with the lead group of women, none of whom i know because i don't race this far from home. i recognised only 1 name on the pre-reg list -- Stacey R -- who's studly enough to be out of my league and coaches other studs. i peg the woman beside me as stacey based on body type and the fact that she chatters and chirps encouragement through the first half-mile. who talks that much during a race?? someone who's saving something for the bike, i now realise. but anyway.

a chick wearing compression socks that look suspiciously like arm warmers has had enough of the chatter, or maybe wants to win the race, because she shoots up the road at the 2 mile mark. no one else responds, so after a half-mile of indecision i do, and for the rest of the first run i linger in no man's land about 20sec back from her. she runs well, i note, but she doesn't have a cycling ass, so it will be interesting to see what she does on a bike.

into the transition zone... and so much for Strategy. i put my helmet on over the sunglasses on top of my head, i lose my balance trying to kick off my shoes and plant one foot in a puddle and the other in the helmet of the person next to me. i swear every time i enter a TZ i turn into a total moron.

i never thought anyone could have a slower transition than me unless they were maybe a beaver or reclining chair, but i make it outta there before compression-sock chick, and when i mount the bike i'm first F.

53K bike
how do you ride the beginning of a 32mi bike when you're in first place? good thing i don't have to worry about this for long! i'm toodling in my small ring when a tightly compact aero-human in a pointy helmet shoots by me like a bullet train. now SHE has a cycling ass. hmmmm - i strategise - i think it is time for snacks - and i am enjoying a tasty e-gel and accelerade when stacey rips by. let's chase her down! - she yells chirpingly while i gape at her, drooling gel. who talks that much during a race??? people who've got their shit together, maybe, because i don't. i can't get in a groove, the mental jukebox is skipping all over the place, and i've forgotten how to time-trial rolling courses.

i endeavor to keep stacey and aerogirl in sight, but i'm struggling and at mile 16 they're small specks. like insects. i am watching all the insects march along... and then i have my song. my legs feel better -- or maybe we've left the worst of the rollers behind -- and by mile 20 i've gained some ground on aerogirl, but stacey's still way out there. when another woman passes me i use her as motivation to leave aerogirl behind. the woman in front of me wasn't part of the lead group of runners, so unless she was totally dogging the first run i should be able to take her in the second. still, the voice of the Oracle's there telling me every second i make up in the bike is one i don't have to make up in the run, so i'm at her heels coming into transition.

8k run
T2's smoother: the only malfunction i have is trying to put on two left shoes. the Oracle suggested 2 pairs of flats; what he neglected to mention to the moron is that they should not look exactly the same. aerogirl and i leave the TZ at the same time, stacey's 2min up the road with second place 20sec ahead of me. i know second's within reach; i don't know about stacey.

i gain on second slowly and pass her in the first mile. i can't make up time on stacey, though. she's too good, too experienced; and i finish 1:37 back from her, roughly a minute of that lost in transition.

this is going to be easy - said the Oracle afterward. there is no question that you can go A LOT faster.

there is work to be done.
and i am going to belgium.

last race of 2007: DE XC champs @ brandywine

laf called saturday afternoon.
- how did the race go?
- fine.
- did you win?
- nnnnnn-oh - two syllables.
- no? really?? how does that FEEL, finn?

he's being a smart-ass because last week i did a 10k turkey trot, won, loitered in front of E's house for a cooldown and when nobody came out to invite me to a lumberjack's breakfast jogged back to the starting line and won the 5K 30min later. you, my fans, are spoiled.

- who beat you?
- an ex-olympian...
- vicki?
- jah. a pro duathlete from new zealand...
- fiona?
- jah. and some chick i've never seen before.
- DOH! are you okay?
- sort of. i've been crying a lot, and i just polished off a bag of reese's peanut butter cups. i'm watching High Tension right now and after that i should be okay.
- right. how was the hammie?
- except for a tweak on maintenance hill, absolutely fine. i got a looooong warmup though.

my explanation of my “looooong” warmup necessitated the confession that 15min before my race started i was hopelessly lost in brandywine creek state park. for a warmup, i'd dropped off the XC course to run flat along the river, out and back, but when i doubled-back with tool's Days on the nano, i passed right from familiar territory into unfamiliar, with the trail that would take me back up the hill to the race start gone. vamoosed. Not In Evidence.

i double-doubled back and ran in nervous circles until i broke down and asked a birdwatching couple i'd now passed 5 times if they knew which trail might take me back to the parking lot. since none of us knew WHICH of the multiple parking lots i meant – "the lot next to the place where my race is starting in 20min" not being much help to anyone – they pointed me toward a trail which went straight up the hill. it wasn't MY trail, though – in fact, it wasn't a people trail at all. it was a deer trail that got narrower and pricklier and then dwindled to nothing.

i backed out of that trail considerably bloodier than i entered it and found another trail that, despite its “closed” sign looked well-used. i trucked down it until i encountered a dog and three children walking with a man who looked trustworthy, that is to say not bleeding nor on the verge of tears. i threw myself at his mercy and he suggested i take the red trail. so i sallied forth 10 steps along the red trail until it forked without clue into 2 divergent directions. i suspected i should go right but consulted the oracle behind me. 'i suspect you go left' - he advised, so i went left and after leapfrogging 3 more walking parties popped out of the same woods the XC course dives into after the open start.

i had enough time to dash to the car, shuck my extra clothes and change my shoes – quite possibly my most flawless transition EVAR – and careened toward the start line while pinning on my number. i heard rudy's voice and ran over to give him a hug but he pushed me away.
- they're starting you. what happened? did you get lost?
- har har har - i chuckled then jostled myself into place on the startline beside his wife. she gave me a Look.
- i got LOST. in the WOODS - i blurted.
- you have twigs. in your hair. and you're bleeding – she responded archly.
- sorry - i said contritely. when racing with ex-olympians one should look one's best and i was picking sticks and leaves out of my ponytail when the startgun sounded.

after that life got a lot simpler. the weathergirl nearly tripped me a couple times zigging in front of me, but after a half-mile she was gone, and mel was breathing on my shoulder up the rocky incline toward maintenance hill but when we crested the climb she too was gone and in front of me were fiona, a chick with long blonde hair and vicki. i could follow every line vicki took, but i sure couldn't run as light and easy as she does.

from the peanut gallery 25yds back i watched vicki gain on the blonde, patience and experience hunting down callow youth. the two of them were abreast after the false flat on the rt 92 segment and i really thought vicki had her, but youth prevailed and had 4sec on experience at the finish.

witness the loot below: a mint New Balance LS shirt, a pair of gloves, 75USD for 3rd place (vicki was scored with the masters women) and a gift certificate for a 30min massage from denise that i won in the post-race raffle. all this for my $18 day-of-race entry fee.


- you know what's funny? - i proposed to laf.
- what.
- well, when I did this race last year F and i ran the course once a week a month before the race, and i did hill intervals on maintenance hill. this year i didn't train for it at all, i've gained 10lbs since worlds, and still i was only 10sec slower this year.
- yeah funny how that works. when i was getting ready for chicago, i was utterly regimented: i ran with a marathon training group, did yasso repeats, and was fanatic about what i ate. i ended up running a half hour off my PR. sometimes it's better to just get out there and run, and not think.

i can assure you that for the next month there won't be much thinking, running, riding or swimming. there'll be a lot of lazing around like a kitty cat, there'll be a week in st. john and there'll be christmas vacation. with the new year will come the realities of an april qualifier for short course du worlds, and Eagleman in june, but give us this month of volunteer slothfulness, forgive us our excesses & forgive them that excess along with us, and lord lead us into temptation.

por A

this morning alexey sokolov won the dublin marathon in 2:09:07; the first female, alina ivanova, finished 20min later. congrats to fa(s)tmammycat, who ran a solidly-paced race, running the last quarter of the race faster than the first. that is how "real runners" run, fastcat.

i ran my first -- and i swear on Z's HoL my ONLY -- marathon 6 years ago, right after i'd had my iliac bypass surgery and needed to test the new plumbing. what better incentive than running a marathon? to increase the likelihood of a Finn Cheering Squad i ran in my hometown, and parents, grandparents and almost-forgotten friends from high school came out to watch.

when my mom and i ran the Race for the Cure a couple weeks ago we talked about my grandfather and the influence he still wields today, 5 years after his passing.
-- i remember the first time i ran the Lady Equitable - my mom said. the Lady E was a 10K that ran through the city's inner harbor. it was a spring rite of passage for my high school track team too, though our coach turned a blind eye because the official stance discouraged road racing during the track season. - and i was SO nervous. i didn't get any sleep the night before and i couldn't eat anything that morning because i thought it would just come back up.
- because you'd never raced 6 miles before?
- no, because your grandfather was there. the running part of the race didn't scare me at all.
- aw mom he would have been happy no matter how you ran.
- finn you don't understand. you were the granddaughter. his relationship with you was much different than mine. you could have been lazy, no-good deadbeat and he would have loved you the same. but he never forgave me and weird sister for not being sons.

that may be so.
and when i crossed the finish line far off the boston qualifying time i'd planned to run, i met no recriminations or awkward silences. just congratulations and helpful hands that wrapped me in mylar and bustled me to a sunny patch where i sought to dispel all the lactic acid in my quads and hamstrings by eating a hootenanny of bananas.

LC du worlds wrap-up

after the race on sunday i told FMC to beat me with a shovel if i ever talked about racing long-course duathlon again. 2 days later my legs are still just as sore and that statement's still valid. somewhat. okay ask me tomorrow.

in short, it was a beautiful day, the courses were fun, the race was well-organised, and i finished 11th amateur F and 5th in my age group. could have done better, but isn't that usually the case?

my folks were an invaluable support crew: they navigated and drove the technical, convoluted bike course while i studied it from the passenger seat until i could play the entire 18K loop in my head. they filled my gas tank, found the grocery store and stocked me with bananas and gluten-free cookies, and they tracked the number of women in my age group ahead of me during the race. all i had to do was run and ride my bike some.

first run leg was 2 laps of a 7.5K course. i went out relaxed, with no intention of sticking with anyone. felt confident and strong, though i wobbled a bit when a heavy panter decided she was going to stick on my left shoulder. i couldn't hear my own breathing over her locomotion, and was i imagining that every 20sec or so she'd under her breath say "good job" to herself? to me? or was it "huzzah"? "gotcha"? whatever it was, she was negging my groove and i wished she'd give me some space. everytime i passed other runners i'd slot in front of them just to be free of her for a bit but she'd always glom back on. i finally shook her at a water stop and enjoyed the blessed silence.

the run course was fairly flat, with some cobbled and some sandy sections along the canal. it was in a sandy section that i came upon one of the physically disabled racers bogged down in his wheelchair while runners filed by. "little help here!" he called. "what do you need?" i asked, "a push?" "push, push!" he responded. so i pushed, hoping that i would not flip him over a bump and into the canal like that OJ scene in Naked Gun. i pushed and then a chick behind me pushed and later a course marshal pushed and wheelchair dude eventually finished the race in a grueling 7.5 hours.

finished the first run in 12th place and after a clean transition hit the first of 4 loops of the bike, which started with a short climb, followed by a screaming descent then a deadstop into a headwind on a bridge across the james river. very rude. very painful way to start 2.5 hours of riding, especially when the legs which performed so well running just aren't giving it up for the bike and you are passed by half a dozen women moving so fast you wonder if they've got the same headwind you do. give it a couple miles, i told myself, and the legs will come 'round. but they never did, and a course that promised to be so fun -- technical, twisty and varied -- turned out to be a sufferfest. a clanking noise down by my cranks grew louder and louder. maybe my bottom bottom bracket will fall out, i thought, and then i can stop, but no such luck. i measured time by gels consumed, and when i finally schlumped off the bike after the 4th lap i could barely run to transition.

but legs that were so unresponsive on the bike perked up for the second run. i don't know how it's possible to feel good running while sucking so badly on the bike, but i pulled it off. i passed a ton of people on that second run, downing gatorade and showering myself with water at the aid stations; the day was heating up and some people were cramping, beginning to walk. i collected a couple age group spots on that second run, but even had i run 4min miles there was still no way to make up for the 15-20min i lost on the bike. but stuff happens, you know? -and you cross the finish line at the world championships, the announcer pronounces your name CORRECTLY for once, and there are bottles of gatorade and bags of salted peanuts and your family and that is enough.

thanks to all who offered good wishes.

now, it's SofaTime.

countdown to richmond: 4 days

the bikes have been tuned, the hammie will be tuned by rudy this aft, carbs are loading as i type (better safe than sorry!), and tomorrow morning i am off to richmond.

i am not stressed about worlds. much. okay, i did have a dream about the race last night... in fact let me tell you about my dream because i'm a woman and according to one of westolowski's witnesses that's what we do. i dreamed that i finished up the first run with the leaders (1st sign this is Not Real) and darted into transition, only to find that my water bottles were empty, my shoes were gone, and so was my bike. i ran to the water table and decanted dozens of dixie cups into my water bottles and begged a pair of cycling shoes off a spectator. i still could not find my bike though, so i appealed to an official, and he said no worries we'll hook you up and he pointed to the mount/dismount area, and there was a rocking horse. and i had to ride the rocking horse and of course i didn't get very far and i kept telling myself even MY transitions are not this bad, it must be a dream, has to be, but i must have rocked for 20min before i finally convinced myself because my adductors are still sore. see, not stressed at all.

though i travel with the Mac Trinity, i may not write while i'm down there. if you're interested you might wanna check out two of my competitors -- er, Team USA teammates. these girls are the Real Deal and i predict for them age group podium finishes, maybe even overall placings.
http://kerrirobbins.blogspot.com/
http://www.aliciaparr.com/blog/

ttyl.

wrapping up the regular duathlon season

this is why multisport pwns bike racing -- we get to race at venues like this while poor roadies spend their weekends hanging out in crappy industrial parks. after the race yesterday i swam in the ocean and lay insensate in the sand until my stomach began to pule.

the last duathlon of the regular season started inauspiciously. i miscalculated the race start time and barely got my bike racked before the transition zone closed: i showed up just as the national anthem was being sung and got busted by a volunteer who told me to PLEASE stand still for the national anthem, so i did, only i was so discomfited that i dropped my bike, and in trying to catch it, i dropped my helmet, which rolled and came to rest at the feet of a woman who just glared at me for putting her in the awkward position of either standing still for our national ditty or politely returning my helmet. she returned my helmet, and i curtsied, because i don't know if you know this but it is okay to move during our national anthem if you are curtsying.

it would have behooved me to warm up for the first run because 1.5miles isn't far at all and should be run quickly, not at the 7min/mile effort i put forth, but instead of doing striders minutes before the start-gun sounded, i was on my hands & knees, following a deer trail through thick multiflora rose, in search of a bathroom spot because whatever stomach virus i had last week came back full force. sorry if i pooed in anybody's bed.

so the first run was slow, but no other women challenged me. out on the 14mile bike course i overtook a rolling block of half-a-dozen guys, who responded by repeatedly passing and then pulling right in front of me, which is really motherfuckin RUDE because then I have to jam on the brakes and drop 5meters back to get out of the drafting zone, and then ramp up and pass your ass aGAIN. at mile 10 i thought i'd broken my boyz until we made a hard right over the drawbridge and there they were, buzzing at my heels like that cluster of deerflies that assailed me in maine.

though it was annoying at the time, they motivated me to ride faster than i would have alone -- i was still feeling thursday's hill intervals in my quads and would have been content to putz along with grandpa and his cruiser bike on the way to the Silver Spoon Diner.

commenced the 5K run alongside one of the pack boyz. our strides matched exactly, tamping out the beat to BRMC's American X in my head.
- oh dear - i commented to him - we run the same too.
- naw, you were faster than me by the end of the first run. i was really working to keep up with you on the bike.
- you guys were good incentive out there.
- yeah, you were definitely the leader of our pack.
i left him behind as i tripped merrily on my way. there were no women in striking distance -- the 2nd place woman finished 3min back -- so i ran relaxed, but vigilant. i ended up 8th overall out of 100, and demonstrated my cycling prowess by riding my bike into a culvert and doing an endo before the crowd gathered for the awards ceremony. yup, that's yer first-place woman lying in the ditch there. bring her a sammich won't you?

contador tested positive?!?

time: yesterday aft
place: JM lot
dramatis personae: LAF y moi

LAF: did you hear the latest on the tour??
oh fuck me. another painful exegesis. three times at work today i got thrown on the ropes and had to come to the rescue of my sport. poor cycling, withering like tinkerbell. :sigh:

F: yes...

LAF: so, you heard what happened today?

F: well, i heard what happened late last night, about rasmussen getting booted from Rabobank.

LAF: you didn't hear about Discovery?

F: nooo. what about Discovery?

LAF: contador tested positive.

F: shut up.

LAF: no, i'm serious. he tested positive for testosterone after Stage 15 and got kicked out of the Tour.

F: not contador.

LAF: so evans is in yellow now, and if levi can make up time in the TT it'll be the 9th straight american Tour victory.

F: you're serious about contador.

LAF: dead serious.

F: motherfucker. i really liked that little dude. he was scrappy. but vino was scrappy too. fucking contador.

LAF: haha. just kidding. contador's still in yellow.

i'm not sure whether the question is "why are my friends such pricks" or "why am i so gullible" but the take-away lesson is that busloads of our heroes could ejected from the Tour because of drug use, and i wouldn't be surprised. disappointed, betrayed, but not surprised.

earlier this week rudy told me of EPO allegations swirling around one of my triathlon competitors. i'd never heard such a rumor, and i find it ridiculous. EPO isn't cheap, and it's not readily available AFAICS. and why would normal people with jobs and families and lives outside their sport take such a risk?

i can understand how a Tour contender riding for a team paying him $600,000 USD a year might submit to pressure that i'm sure is ubiquitous in that rarefied environment. it's stupid, sure, but within the realm of reason. but taking EPO to win a no-name race in new jersey? get real.

i got tired of winning...

...so i let someone else take the glory in saturday's sprint du in jersey. i probably shouldn't have raced at all on these tired legs of mine, but i saw on the pre-reg list the woman who won the sprint du in philly last weekend, and i wanted to see how we'd stack up.

well, i learned! she beat me by 2min, which in sprint language is roughly a week. she bolted through the first 2-mile run 30sec faster than me. no prob; i know she's a better runner than me; i'll just make up time on the bike. good in theory, but my legs were not about theory. they were about – what the fuck are you doing you big stupid wombat, didn't you understand when we told you yesterday that we need more TIME to RECOVER from that LONG COURSE race you didn't even TRAIN for? fuck YOU.

so, the bike kinda blew. i could turn the pedals, but i couldn't turn 'em in anger, to employ a classic liggettism. the 3rd place woman whom i beat handily last week caught and passed me, and i thought about pulling out of the race right then & there. i've won my last 6 races. i cannot be THIRD in a local duathlon. see?? -don't let my charming exterior fool you; deep down i'm a real cunt.

i felt even more crappy when my feet hit the pavement, but i ran myself into 2nd place on the second run, and the lead woman was far enough ahead that i wasn't tempted to blow out a hamstring trying to catch her. thank god for that, and finish lines, and podium finishes on days when you should have just slept in.

second place netted me a noice trophy and $75 – sweet, eh? on the way home i blew half my winnings on a jersey fruit & vegetable stand. very vicey, i know. but you should have seen the melons and peaches and corn oh my! F calls me his little Fruit Bat. i call him my Westernised Whore.

my condolences, adam, for your countrymen mick, robbie and stewie. what a gloomy day in oz yesterday. let's hope cadel takes up the charge.

going to worlds!!!

yesterday was the regional qualifier for long-course duathlon worlds; top 3 in each age group (AG) get invites to Team USA. i had HOPED that i could score a 3rd place in my AG behind the studly k-rob and alicia; instead i won the whole damn thing. incredible, eh? no one was more surprised than me. here's how it went down:

12K run (7.2 miles)
the starting siren sends off a pack of 50 women and half a mile later there are two women out front, then a cluster of three, then me, then the rest. the cluster of three includes k-rob, alicia and another woman in my AG. (thanks to bodymarking, we've all got our ages written in permanent marker on the backs of our calves. i love the smell of indelible marker in the morning.)

i gradually catch my AG trio and roll with them through the first mile marker in 6:07. that's the last time i look at my watch. from then on i run and ride purely on feel.

the first 3 miles pass quickly. it's just k-rob and me running shoulder to shoulder; the other two women dropped off the pace. i'm feeling relaxed and am comforted by the fact the woman next to me is breathing harder than i am. she turns to me and simultaneously says – sooooo, what's your name? - then goggles at me - oh, it's you, finn. yeah, i don't know what i'm doing up here running with you either. i suspect my body is treating this race like a sprint du. boy, is it in for a surprise!

the last couple miles are harder than the first, but i'm in 3rd place when i hit T1. D witnessed the debacle first transition. your transitions SUCK. you had thirty seconds on K when you came in. she grabbed her helmet and bike and was gone, while you were still doing... what WERE you doing? well, i was stuffing my spare tube and C02 cartridge, 3 gels and the collected worx of henry miller in my pocketses... and then i rummaged in my transition bag for a jug of water and dumped most of it over my head cos i knew it would be freakin' hot out there on the bike.

70(ish)K bike (~41 miles)
when i finally hit the road, K is a mere speck. within a mile, she's gone, out of sight, and i write her off completely.

it seems to take an eternity to find a rhythm on the bike, and for the first 5 miles i can't find the right gear. i'm like goldilocks: this one's too easy, but the next one's too hard. i've got Comfortably Numb in my head and contemplating the next 40 miles sends me into a somnolent state which rudely dissolves around mile 10 when i nearly run into a dude fixing a flat on the shoulder.

now i'm awake and properly geared (in the big ring, even!) and armed with Wings for Marie. i don't know how fast i'm going or how far i've gone because my bike computer had a meltdown in the first 5 miles; but D and i drove the course the night before so i know roughly where i'm going -- plus, the bike leg is 2 laps, so any of the sights you missed on the first you can take on the second. ospreys hanging out on the wharf? -check. dead possum on the bumpy stretch? -check. snapping turtle crossing the road in front of you? - safely gone.

i catch one woman before the end of the first lap, and a third of the way into the second i come upon k-rob. i never catch her on the bike, so something must be wrong. as i pass her, i inquire – are you okay? - and she nods and grins, somewhat manically. the heat and miles are taking a toll.

but you know what? this isn't so bad. sure i am on the bike for almost 2 hours, but i don't mind. my bike is really comfortable, i'm not super-pegged and the mental jukebox is cooperating. plus i'm in second place when i roll into T2.

8K run (4.8 miles)
go get her – a well-meaning spectator hollers at me – if you can see her, you can catch her!! what? i don't see ANYone but a couple man-specks on the horizon, and honestly? -i don't care about winning; i only want to qualify. though a big chunk of the race is behind me, a lot can happen in those final miles, especially in this heat. so why push?

if the first run and bike weren't so bad, the second run is the polar opposite. in duathlons there's a fine line you walk between energy expenditure on the bike vs. the second run, and i fear i've given too much on the former with nothing left for the latter. two miles in, i still don't have any rhythm and i feel like i'm in one of those dreams where you're running as hard as you can but you're moving in slow motion, going nowhere.

the run's out and back, in full sun, and did i mention the brutal heat?? at every aid station i snag a cup of water, drink some and dump the rest over my head. when there's ice i dump it down my jersey.

gradually some flow returns and holy mother of god there's the lead woman right in front of me! she's moving steadily, but slowly, and i pass her right before the turnaround. i might actually WIN this race - how crazy is that? after rounding the turn, however, i see k-rob and another woman not far behind, so i kick up the pace a notch. it takes my body about 30sec to convey to me in no uncertain terms that this was a singularly BAD idea. the messenger is a slight flutter in my upper right hamstring. motherfucker. no. not now.

i try to soldier on, but with every step my hamstring tightens more and i'm afraid i'll tear it again. so i stop and stretch it briefly, then start again. it's still seizing, and i stop, stretch, start, stop. several men have passed me and i move off the road, out of the way. i don't even want to look to see where the other women are. i can't believe i was winning, and now i might not even qualify - i think - now i might not even finish, period. i am pissed off and helpless; i don't know what to do. i continue my useless stretching and in my peripheral vision see the second-place woman approach.

- i know exactly how you feel - she says as she passes me - just stretch it out. you'll be able to run again. you'll be able to run again. those words are so calming to me. i finish my stretch, take a deep breath and begin to walk slowly down the road. hamstring is okay with this, so i begin to walk a little faster. still okay, so a little faster, then a light shuffle, okay, now a slow trot, easy jog, very very light run.

i take back the lead a couple minutes later, thanking my mentor as i pass her. i've learned my lesson, though, and i don't push the pace at all, just keep the legs turning over.

i get to break the ribbon at the finish. i don't remember someone putting a medal around my neck, handing me a bottle of gatorade or removing my timing chip, but i do remember my foot and left calf spasming into a crippling cramp as soon as i crossed the line. i looked down to see if indeed someone were twisting my foot sideways in a vise and was startled to see all the veins in my legs standing out in stark relief over taut skin and dehydrated muscle.

from the stories i heard afterward, everyone cramped on the bike and/or second run. no surprise: after 2 hours we were bits of human jerky moving around the course with an hour and a half still to go.

so, long course is TOUGH, esp in the summer.
but i did have fun.
and i am going to worlds in october.

countdown to LC world quals (or Drink Now Bitches)

hallo friday; hallo señor jameson.
pleased to meet you!

off to southern maryland this weekend for qualifiers for long-course duathlon worlds. long-course = 12K run - 70-ishK bike - 8K run = fucking snooze-ville. i can't remember the last time i rode my bike more than 50K, and i most certainly didn't precede OR follow it with any kind of running nonsense. in the Finn Universe, though, it makes perfect sense to begin my long-course career with a worlds qualifier. why ELSE would you run and cycle and run for 4 hours, esp in a heat index of 100+F as sunday promises to bring?

the run and bike courses are deadly flat and don't think that because they run through the Blackwater Wildlife Refuge they're any kind of fun. i did a short-course race here and nearly died of sheer boredom. the only wildlife i saw was a dead squirrel on the shoulder and that amused me for about 8 nanoseconds. also, "blackwater" makes me think of the doobie brothers song, which makes me want to ask you to pass the spliff and get me another beer. it does NOT inspire me to tear the legs off my competitors.

top 3 in each age group go to worlds (in richmond, in october) and looking at my field's entry i see at least two women who're way more studly than this here boozehound, chicks with national and world titles. good thing i have been eating chocolate non-stop since monday, stoking the glycogen stores you know. that extra junk in my trunk is muscle, bro.

the one saving grace is that my teammates will be there too, and whining's not allowed in that crowd. case in point is this email convo from yesterday:

[AJ] On another note, I am somewhat handicapped. I hit a goose walking across the road and crashed my bike. I have some good road rash up the left side of my body and arms. owweee. I should be OK to go by Sunday... at least to run.
[sir aeroflot chumblenucks] Should have paid attention to the "Goose Crossing" sign, Goose has the right away.
[hen] There are so many thousands of things to say here my head re-booted... Hey J, do you still have that fake goose doll that we can put at mile 17 on the bike?
[finn] if not i'm thinkin D in that swan costume bjork wore a couple years ago. swan/goose, it's all the same when you're pegged. hen, do you make the happy mac sound when your head reboots?
[hen] I do, because I am using the iPhone it does it for me.
[finn] nyah nyah, nyahnyah nyah nyah nyahnyah nyah nyahnyah nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah.
[pf] If I see D on the course as a swan/goose I will spew my gatorade endurance everywhere.
[hen] OMG like the Jersey devil... it will be worth NOT going to worlds to see him jump out with a gaggle chasing after AJ... totally YouTube stuff... so shhhh don't tell AJ our scheme.

note that not one person meeped a note of sympathy for a dude who's just given roadies another round of ammunition to use in their argument that tri-geeks are phreds with no bike-handling skillz.

but all that's sunday and between now and then is MFBT.

happy weekend all.

another damn jersey du

ADJD
2mi run – 16mi bike – 5K run

if last week's tri was an example of victory through focus and strategy, this weekend's result was surely victory despite wiftyness and fucktardery, as my pre-race routine was a collection of boneheaded and newbie mistakes. do as i say, kids, not as i do. here are some hints:

• - don't start watching Notes on a Scandal at 8pm the night before you have to get up at 5, because you won't want to stop mid-way (good flick, though -- thanks for the rec, kath).
  
• - don't eat a huge bowl of ice cream at 9pm because 2 hours later you will still be doing the samba if not on the floor then in your head.
• - don't drown your ice cream in homemade kahlua. you made it, genius. you KNOW what's in it.
• - if you have been averaging only 5 hours of sleep in the days before the race, there is a good chance you will forget about the bagel you set to toast in the oven.
• - there is a good chance you will forget more than once. and there is an extremely good chance that on the 3rd time it will catch fire.
• - men who are awoken by the smoke alarm at 5:15am are still horny.
• - “i'll be quick” is usually a lie, or at the very least an extremely relative statement.
• - get a good warm-up. driving to the race at double the speed-limit, though it may increase your heart rate, is not considered a warm-up. neither is dashing to registration, or re-racking the line of bikes you knocked down trying to jam yours in.
• - if the portapot line is too long and you take the woods option, mind the thorn bushes. jersey grows some doozies. and if you get stuck, don't panic because that will only entangle you more and put holes in your uniform and your skin.
• - don't forget to get bodymarked unless you want to dash back to registration 2min before the start of your race. but if you do, there's a smokin' guy there with nice forearms and a chunky timex whose hands feel cool on your hot skin. he won't mind that you're bloody, either.
• - if surveying your transition area leaves you feeling like something's missing, explore that feeling. better to take this time before the race than to finish the first run and discover your cycling shoes are still buried in your transition bag. good thing you didn't have enough time to take that back to the car!

got all that, grasshopper??

despite an unpropitious start, i still finished pretty well, especially considering how knackered i was from the preceding week. felt okay on the first run and was 1st woman and top 10 overall coming into T1. felt progressively better, then progressively more tired on the bike; but passed a ton of people from the triathlon running concurrently and had the kickass Wings for Marie in my head once again.

ohhhhh mannnnn - hollered an extremely enthusiastic man as i powered by him – noyyyce. you go girl!! that's one dude who has no ego issues about being passed by a girl.

hamstring and compensatory tweaks a bit of an issue on the 2nd run – there is a definite line i don't want to cross – but still passed more people, including the 2nd place woman in the tri. 1st place was within reach as we approached the turn-around but her dial must go to 11 because she rabbited away and the next time i saw her was at the awards presentation. recognised No-Ego Dude in the oncoming traffic, still very enthused. there she is – he yodeled happily – looking GOOD!!

there are No-Ego racers, and there are those who take your pulling alongside them 150m from the finish line as an invite to drag race and by drag i mean the state of your ass because you've spent the past hour flirting with your blow threshold. it does not matter that they're not your gender or age group and may not even be in your RACE, but du/tri, male/female, old/young doesn't matter when you're two racers approaching the finish.

he blew about 50m from the line.

stats: 1st F and 3rd overall out of 77.

middletown sprint tri

0.25mi swim – 16 mile bike – 3 mile run

i waffled on this race until the very last minute, leaving the house only under the condition that if my much-abused hamstring rebelled during a warmup i'd pack up and go right back home. but after 2 weeks of chilling the hammie, i was feeling restless and coltish. mentally, i wanted to tear some shit up even if i'm not quite there physically; plus there's the fact that i've done this race for 4 years straight and won the last 2.

i knew i wouldn't be able to win through brute force cos i was feeling neither brutish nor forceful, so i'd have to be smart and calculated -- which i'm sure you've gathered is a stretch for me. i'd need to get to the race with enough time to do a slow, easy warmup run. i'd need time to get in the water and prepare for the shotgun swim start. i'd need to have my shit together mentally. and of course i'd need a huge bowl of haagen dazs the night before.

my warmup run was auspicious: the hamstring was Evident but not Obstructive. i had a peaceful poo in the woods and used the 10min i would have spent in the portajohn line warming up on the bike. i drank some of the noxontown pond water during a warmup swim so it wouldn't be such a shock to my system during the race. the stars were aligned.

my swim wasn't bad – and that is the best thing i can say about the swim leg of a tri. i've accepted that it's never going to be good, or absolutely fabulous, so “not bad” suffices. i stayed relatively on course, didn't run into any buoys and only once swam out to one of the lifeguard kayaks, mistaking it for a course buoy. i didn't wear a wetsuit because i figured the race would be challenging enough without throwing wetsuit removal into the mix. sorry, transition spectators – no sideshow this time.

though i didn't know it at the time, i was about 6th woman out of the water. they're a couple minutes up the road - BV informed me as i hopped on the bike.

sometimes my bike is really really good, and sometimes it's so-so. i knew that today it had to be really fucking fast because i couldn't rely on my run to make up time. but i still started off eeeeeensy-slow in the small chain ring because that's how we roll, and after a couple miles i graduated to a comfortably hard pace.

that would have been enough to make up some time but on the second of two 8-mile laps, i found the Zone. the mental jukebox cooperated once again, serving up Tool's Wings for Marie which, with its rolling bassline, rumbling drums and hypnotic vocals, is absolutely perfect for time-trialing. my focus narrowed to my tunnel of movement – i could have been riding in the arctic circle with polar bears all around for all i know – and i could concentrate without concentrating, if that makes any sense. i felt invincible, which was nice for a change.

i didn't know how many women were ahead of me after the swim, but when i caught joss, i knew i was close to, if not the, front. she's such a strong swimmer and cyclist that i typically don't see her until the later part of the run.

i was pulling on my flats when joss came into transition, with a couple women hot on her heels. spectators told us we were the lead women, but i knew i didn't have much of a lead. still, i started out slowly, trying not to jack my hamstring into tightening or spasming. i took tiny little steps up rises and opened up on the flats. i felt okay – not great, just okay. if i'd had to chase anyone down there would have been serious suffering, but all i had to do was keep the rhythm rolling, and stay relaxed, which i did. i crossed the line with a quiescent hamstring and a huge grin.

i finished about a minute up from joss and was 1st F and 10th overall out of 255. the nice thing about local races is that people in delaware may not know you won a bunch of races in new jersey, or went to duathlon worlds, but they know you won wayne's sprint tri. a local win also gives you more local currency to use with the people you can't do without: rudy, fisch, MM and other members of delaware's inner sanctum of sports.

it's also a much-needed ego boost.

ADD: Another Damn Du

this weekend i did my 3rd duathlon of the season and although i arrived at the race prepared, felt good, raced smart and had my transitions down pat, i still finished behind a bunch of women who were just stronger, fitter and more talented. i can't compete with women in their twenties anymore. i feel old and slow.

heehee. i won!! again! the "arrived at the race prepared" should have clued you -- please. a minute before the start, i was hustling to re-rack my bike and transition gear, having set up with the tri-geeks (who did the same bike and 2nd run legs, but started with a quarter-mile swim) instead of the duathletes. in my rush to move, my bike and i got tangled up in the caution tape marking the transition zone's perimeter and i thrashed about helplessly while the race director droned unintelligible instructions through a bullhorn. the more i struggled, the more entangled i got, and i felt like a mouse on one of those sticky traps. a hairy-chested grandpa in a speedo finally rescued me.

- oh no – adjured maggie, my closest competition, as i dragged my crap toward the du area – you just stay over there, finn.

i arrived at the start line with enough time to find my teammate flashmeister scandlethigh, he of the legs nicer than mine, and confirm the run and ride distances: SHORT! - 2-mile run, 12-mile bike, 5K run.

- do you ever read the race info before you show up for a race? - hotminster wondercalves asked.

- i read it, but i don't remember it. just like i can't remember your name – i think but don't say.

the field was twice as big as last weekend's – about 55 total – and my competition was slightly stronger, but only somewhat. the heavy hitters must still be recovering from short-course worlds.

i didn't dog the runs like i did last weekend so going into T1 i was approx top-10 overall and the first woman. the triathletes were already on the road, so i had plenty of people to catch. during the bike and 2nd run i passed all the tri women except for louise, who won, but that's no indication of how i'd have fared in the tri because the swim would have set me back about twelve billion years.

my bike leg literally rocked: the moderate crosswind buffeting my ears conjured the thunderolling drumline of tool's Ticks & Leeches, and if you know the song you can appreciate how easy it is to peg out a hard effort when you've got that rumbling in your head & gut.

the second run felt tougher than the first. the day was heating up and my hamstring was beginning to complain; so i ran a comfortably hard pace off the bike, then eased up when i thought my gap would hold. i ended up 7th overall. scarpfenster fleetinghorse was 2nd.

the bonus? -winning in front of your sponsor. i was wiping accelerade and snot off my top tube when roy, the local fuji rep, introduced himself. he congratulated me and asked me how i liked my bike. i love it - i gushed - i love the geometry and the feel of the carbon fiber, and i love fuji for sponsoring us and for unquestioningly replacing the 4-year-old road frame that i tore apart. i was a total whore for roy. i was so stoked on winning that if he'd asked me to plait flowers around my bike and pull it up on the podium to sing You Decorated My Life i would have done it in a heartbeat.

when i was packing up the car, some poor dude made the mistake of asking me how i liked my bike because his wife was trying to decide between fuji and quintana roo, and half an hour later he told me he really had to go because his mom was calling. see, roy? maybe you should consider paying my race entry fees. i'm easy.

delaware rox the barrens

so there ya go. but before you begin formin' misconceived ideas about my studliness, consider that the du field stood at about 20 before we First State people showed. at packet pickup i found hen, looking totally pimp in our new kit and conversing with a similarly-pimped dude.

- hey – i greeted hen.
- 'sup.
- who's he? - i gestured at pimp no.2
- that's [spoonmaster foreigncups]. you met him before, remember? at e-town's? - forkmeister scandleflash didn't seem to mind being discussed in third-person.
- oh. hmm. he has nice legs.
- yes – hen agreed magnanimously. i pursed my lips and thought for a couple long seconds.
- you do too – i finally admitted.
- thank you.

there is no “i” in “team,” you see. and The Team ended up with 3 spots in the top 5 overall: flashmonster boodlesnatch and his carved, shaven legs won, hen took 3rd and i popped in at 5th.

this race was a world of difference from last week's. there was no suffering, i rocked solid on the bike, and running and i got back together after being on a break for a week and a half. i held back on the runs, though, because the hamstring is querulous and i'm not challenging it before i see sir rudy tomorrow. expect bruiseporn, friends.

the soundtrack? the doobie brothers' "black water" and kenny rogers' “she believes in me.” i don't know where this shit comes from, but there have got to be corporeal synapses and once i find them i'm gonna open my skull and carve them out with a melon scooper. replace 'em with a GPS unit so i don't end up in lost in south jersey ever again.

pine barrens

tomorrow hen and i represent at a sprint du in the jersey pine barrens, 18,00 acres of which have burned since an air force flare hit the ground still burning during a training exercise on tuesday. ooopsie.

my legs are have been pretty chummed all week, because sometimes i train like a total 'tard. but if Dr M invited you to run with him at tues nite track, i bet you would, even if he was running a 1600m -> 400m ladder at sub-6min mile pace that made your heavy legs even heavier. you would do it because you finally had someone to run with, someone with infectious optimism (not to mention total sponge-worthiness). training, for as much as we do it, is more than training -- it's also life, and it'd be shame to let your vision narrow too much, unless you're training for something huge. and even then you would reconsider your singular focus once M stripped off his shirt.

so hen and i are returning to the site of my very first triathlon (for there's a tri that runs concurrently). 4 years ago, when i was dumb and stubborn, i blithely ignored the fact that it was raining and about 40F; i ignored the woman racking her bike next to mine when she looked up at the dark sky and commented, the people who know how to dress will be the ones who do well today.

i don't know if she dressed and finished well, because i pulled out of the race midway through the bike leg with hypothermia. i sat in a course marshal's lincoln continental with the heat blasting, waiting for all cyclists to clear the course so i could be driven back to the parking lot, where i snuck out with my tail between my legs and my jaw still aching from trying to keep my teeth from chattering too violently.

can't wait to return to the barrens -- that is, if the barrens are still there and not burnt to a cinder.

the old folks get some loot

the old people rocked the weekend:

exhibit A:
friday afternoon my mom learns of a 3-mile race the next morning. a fundraiser for a neighborhood park, it's called A Hill of a Race, which offers an idea of the terrain it covers. my mom's not a big fan of hills, unless they're in switzerland or austria and she's hiking up them, but she races, feels great and walks away with a trophy for the first-place 50+ woman.

my mom's 60.

exhibit B:
saturday morning i enter a local 5K for a patented Finn Race Brick, which is where you park at the start line an hour before the race, hop on your bike and ride as far as you can in 40 minutes, then turn around and race back to the start, where you throw the bike in the car and swap shoes. you have to seriously negative-split the ride or else you miss the start of the 5K, so it's great -- if painful -- training.

i wanted to see what would happen if i raced the 5K without worrying about pacing or splits, so i started out fast and didn't look at my mile splits until after the race. so what happened? this happened:
mile 1: 5:59
mile 2: 5:50
mile 3: 6:41
what happens that i crash and burn after 2 miles. but i still won a $50 gift certificate to the local brewery that sponsors the race for finishing 1st female, 12th overall.

i'm 39.

exhibit C:
after the race i met an older lady named peggy for whom this 5K marked a return to racing after a 15-year layoff. her son had inspired her to start running when she was 45. yeah, 45. i was always one of these people who would rather run than walk - she said. when i saved a place for her in the post-race buffet line while she fetched a sweatshirt from her car, i didn't fret even though i was ravenous. i knew i wouldn't have to wait long - i told her when she returned even quicker than i thought - because i know you ran to your car.

peggy was thrilled because she finished in 37:14, 5 minutes faster than she'd run in training; and she netted a gift certificate for winning her age group. you know it's really impressive that you won overall - she told me - even though you're in an older age group. i took that as the compliment it was intended to be.

peggy is 72.

exhibit D:
beckyY, the pig-tailed waif who's a fixture at local 5Ks, finished the race after persevering through cramps in both calves. it was a beautiful day - she said to me and peggy afterward - and i can't imagine anywhere i would rather be than running with you all.

granted, what becky calls "running" we might term a shuffle or energetic creep, because it took her over an hour to complete the course. but she still walked away with an age group prize: one of the much sought-after growlers. here's becky with her growler:


can you tell she's 87?