i'm not dead teho

and here's what i need for xmas.


3 pls.

my dog is hot

- have a good walk? - D asked last night when the dog and i got in just before dark.
- yes. a couple people stopped and said what a good-looking dog.
- were they guys?
- erm... yeah.
he snorted.
- what?
- total pickup line.
- i don't think so. he IS a good-looking dog.

that, and clad in an XXL Hate '90 shirt and court shorts down to my knees, cradling my sore swollen belly, bruises pooling from wrist to elbow and greyly po-faced i'm hardly pickup line material. but men are from mars and finns are from Blue.

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.

pretty much sums up the week...

no running.

no rhythm.
no end of work.
no sleep.
no patience.
no joy.

i do have kumquats tho. that somewhat eases the slings & arrows of outrageous fucktardery. so does slayer.

this is my bone stimulator...

this is my bone stimulator,
this is my gun,
this is for healing,
this is for fun.

this is my bone stimulator. it uses ultrasound pulses to heal fresh and established breaks, and purportedly it decreases by 38% the time it takes to heal a stress fracture. 20 minutes a day will do it – the rep told me then held up a hand to stop the question she knew was on deck – and you can do it twice a day, but there's no evidence to show increased benefit.

when it's working, you feel only the faintest vibratory tremor. it's not like galvanic stim where you crank the dial up to a pain threshold you think you can justbarely endure and spend the next 20min trying to not pee yourself.

thanks to PPO insurance coverage and a pro-athlete podiatrist who knows how to play the script game, the bone stimulator is mine for keepsies, and i see no reason why i shouldn't share my largesse with those who also might benefit. it is for that reason that i am proposing Bone Stimulator Parties @Chez Finn. so come all ye morsels sufferers: ye lafs with yer plantar fasciitis, ye jacks with yer fockered knees, ye Fs with your femoral stress fractures.

for such fit people, we're a pathetic bunch. who thought running and cycling could be so hazardous?? but the bone stimulator might just turn things around.

nice crack, asshat

well guess who went and ran when they shouldn't have and turned a 3rd metatarsal stress fracture into a full-bore break:

NOT ME!!! that's my teammate iPimp's crack. it's doubly ironic, like rain on your wedding day AND your first communion, that we should suffer the same injury in the same foot, verily on the same bone. only iPimp REALLY fucked his ship up and now he's Booted 24-7 and and can't ride, not even the rollers, and can't do the EFX or elliptical (read: no excuse to check out jack on the rowing machine or doing pushups orSTOP the train,kay). he can, however, pool-run, so i may soon have company for my misery.

- what did you DO? - i emailed iPimp.
- Well, I had a stress fracture for a while, and thought it was better... so ran in a local du... got 3rd and after that... went to Vegas... by the time the plane landed my foot was so huge I couldn't get my shoe on... did you know they sell crutches at 11pm on a Saturday night on the Vegas strip? LOL. I was 4mm away from surgery... I asked the Foot Dr (Tell me, why are they always so small? Like hardly 5'5') I asked when can I start even the smallest bit of training, he said anything with the legs would be at least 4-5 weeks....

lesson lock stock & barrel-delivered. there will be NO runninks on the tready for me for at least another week.

but, all is not gloom & doom according to iPimp:
Das Boot can fit a flask, and an amazingly huge boot-knife.

Pyramid in Your Pants

friday's Happiness lasted approx 8 hours, or until dr foot called to say my x-ray and MRI reveal a stress fracture. before confining me to Das Boot for 4-6weeks he wants to see me tomorrow so he can confirm. know how you confirm a stress fracture? (you learn a lot when you are injured.) you ring a standard-issue tuning fork and apply it to the bone-in-question.
- if there's a fracture, you'll light up like a christmas tree! - dr foot tittered - and when i press down on it with my finger you might pass out.
- you sound like a great date - i said sullenly.

it's JUNE motherfucker. i've raced TWICE this season, NO victories, when this time last year i had about 8 races under my belt and i think i was winning things. i am frustrated and chafing and so full of testosterone i keep checking to see if i've grown a penis but nothing yet. yesterday it was so bad that even though i should have been riding easy, i chased down a skinny old man riding his cruiser bike down valley road. i'm sure grandpa was really impressed and after he got to the library and unpacked his panniers i bet he told the people behind the Returns desk how he got passed on his way there by a girl (i think it was a girl). yes i'm sure that's how it went down.

oh penisshitfuckcunt. i need to not have a stress fracture.

alternatives to running, pt 3

- i solved the flotation issue! – D announced last night as he maneuvered a case of wine through the kitchen door.
- what flotation issue?
- you know, you. in the pond.

so it's back to this. undeterred by the massive prehistoric creature he coaxed from the pond's depths (and reinstated!!) with a bass lure, D has still got a bee in his bonnet about setting me up to run in there. all his man brain cells have been working overtime to address the problem that without a flotation belt i will sink to the mucky bottom.

- and?
- milk jugs. we'll fill plastic one-gallon milk jugs with air and tie them around your waist.
- do you know how much I weigh?? my waist isn't big enough for all the milk jugs i'll need to keep me up.

he is chastened but not defeated.

- okay then we'll make you bigger. we'll make you bigger AND give you more flotation. know how?
- by fetching that pint of haagen dazs for me?
- nope. BUBBLE WRAP. there's a ton of it in the basement. bubble wrap and those bladders of air that amazon uses. we'll just duct-tape all that around you and attach the milk jugs. and if that still's not enough a couple plastic garbage bags full of air should do the trick.
- so this scrap heap that you'll truss around me will keep me afloat so i can run.
- if it doesn't, i'll have my camera, so i win either way.
- i do not believe that in this instance you have my best interests at heart.
- kel thought it was a good idea.
- kel is running 25miles in the middle of Death Valley. i don't think she's a trustworthy barometer of good ideas.
- girl, you need to run. you're losing your sense of play.

he's right, of course.

of Badwater and banana bread

recovering from a 3day weekend of par-tays. to honor those who've died for our country, on memorial day weekend we merkins consume belt-popping quantities of potato salad, coleslaw and variations on beef, washed down with lite beer and wine from boxes. good times.

caught up with kel at coach's Miller Lite fest. in july she's heading west for the Badwater ultramarathon -- as in 135 miles of running starting in Death Valley, CA (where temps have climbed to 134deg F), climbing 3 mountain ranges and finishing at mt whitney. runner's world calls Badwater “one of the toughest, craziest races on the planet” and kel is doing it. well, part of it anyway: her friend signed up and at kel's wedding reception last year he proposed the idea that she pace one of his overnight legs. drunk on Brut and lurrrv, she accepted, and as a sign of their commitment he presented her with one of those white suits worn by crazy people who run in the desert.

- he gave you a suit to run at night? and you're not worried?? is there anyone else on his support team?
kel looked unsure.
- well, there's the amputee...
“the amputee” is amy palmiero-winters, who runs with a prosthetic leg – or legs. kel says just like we have training shoes and racing flats, amy has a training leg and a racing leg, and she hasn't decided which to wear for Badwater.

this is kel's friend's second attempt at Badwater: the first time his kidneys shut down midway through and the medics pulled him when he could no longer pee.

- how long is your overnight leg?
- only 25 miles.
- “only.”

at Badwater you have to change your shoes regularly because after about 10miles the midsoles begin to soften from the heat. not just the soles, but the very skeleton of your shoes. bart yasso, of Yasso 800s fame, writes about his Badwater experience in his new memoir, My Life on the Run. a third of the way into his race, yasso began noticing mounds of freshly-baked banana bread on the side of the road. he wasn't hallucinating, as he first thought: one of his competitors up the road was sponsored by chiquita and at regular intervals was throwing up bananas which cooked nicely in the 160deg asphalt. when he began passing mushy, uncooked piles yasso knew the quarry was close.

- has amy done this before? does she have to worry about her prosthesis melting, or getting so hot it burns her?
- i don't know, finn. why don't you come along and run a leg?
- ha! you're a funny one. grab me that box of pinot won't you.

for the next 15min she tried to cajole me from 80 different directions but i was having none of it and eventually D distracted her with details of his pond-running proposal. if i had to make a deal with god whereby i could run again only if i did Badwater i MIGHT take him up on it after long deliberation.

oh who am i fooling. there would be no deliberating. i miss running that much.

alternatives to running, pt2

foot still hurts; can't run; bailing on next weekend's half-ironman.
so i'm riding more -- which isn't so bad: i have E and laf and options for group rides justabout every day of the week. but cycling by nature offers challenges you won't encounter running trail through White Clay Creek SP.

- why is that man so angry? - i asked laf as we rode past a gesticulating driver waiting to turn onto rt 4 from the Taco Bell.
- i guess we kept him from making his turn.

so even though we're going with traffic -- ARE traffic -- señor Dodge Durango is pissed off because he had to wait 20sec to make his turn. WTFever. i don't engage with irate drivers because i am a big scairdycat, i mean i am a lover and not a fighter, but being as italian as risotto laf is both; and when the Durango roared by us, wheels squealing in protest and nearly clipping laf's shoulder, he sprinted to catch the vehicle at the red light 50yds up the road. i poodled along, prepared to call 911 should shots ring out. from my position of cowardice, i mean discretion, i could see words and spittle exchanged. when i caught up with laf his hackles were spiky and his face mottled with emotion.
- everything okay? - i asked insouciantly.
- you know what he said to me?!? he said 'my daughter has a bike like that.'
- THAT'S what he was shouting? that his daughter has a bike like yours?
i thought of TuesNiteTrack's john, whose daughter sally kicks my ass over any triathlon course, long or short. i don't know what kind of bike she rides, but if it's a fuji like mine and laf's, my chest would puff out if john said that to me. i'd feel kinda bad-ass.
- well that's cool - i pronounced, wonderingly. people are funny.
laf looked at me skeptically.
- he had a 4-year old girl sitting in the back seat. he was saying SHE had a bike like mine.
- that little girl has a fuji?
he sighed.
- it was an INSULT, finn. like i was riding a little girl's bike.
my brow furrowed.
- really?
- really.
- hmm, i still think i would have said 'thank you.' after all, you have a very nice bike.
- you keep assuming people are like you. they're not.

and that's a good thing. because if they were, weddings would never be on time, no one would do taxes and there would be constant shortages of jelly beans. there would be no floaters in the crapper and no marinated carrots, and no one would have heard of nora roberts.

alternatives to running, pt 1

it should be fairly obvious from the presence of Frankenfoot that i cannot run. the Oracle has worked around this obstacle by prescribing pool-running. if you've never done or seen it, pool-running is strapping on a flotation belt and contracting your legs to move at top speed down the lane of a pool, travelling at the pace of a hungover snail dragging a brick. ever had that nightmare where you're running as fast as you can and going nowhere? then you've pool-run. just imagine that same nightmare only with less blood, fewer clowns, and david hasselhoff never shows up.

so D has come to the rescue by submitting his proposal to save me from the mind-gobbling boredom of staring at the walls of the Y's indoor pool for hours and hours and hours.
- why don't you run in the pond in the backyard? down by the spillway it's deep enough. i can hook you up so you have some resistance, and you can just run in place. you could be out in NATURE.
- what about the snapper? - i asked timorously.
there is a snapping turtle the size of a Smart Car in the pond. it eats ducks and goslings and once it made a grab for fat lodie when she was hunting voles in the jewelweed.
- oh you'll be making too much commotion for it to want to bother you.

yeah right. i see a nefarious little training strategy shaping up here.