A Path

I don't intend to write much about the election. I do not proselytize in my emotions (or really anything else). Just a few thoughts, then.
How might a hopeful America proceed differently than a fearful one?
Will we take two steps forward and one back?
What obstacles will we overcome that are of our own making?
How many friends will we have to help us surmount those obstacles?

I saw this in the NY times:
Rosa Parks sat in 1955. Martin Luther King walked in 1963. Barack Obama ran in 2008. That our children might fly.

I liked it.

Racing

When do I get to treat the next race as a RACE for me? My plan for this year was to finish a ½ IM in less than 6 hours. I did not achieve that goal, my stupid hernia and hernia surgery got in the way. (Did you know that endurance athletes, esp. runners are prone to hernias? I didn’t. All that jostling of your insides against your abdominal wall can, apparently, find weaknesses in the wall over time. More sit-ups!?!) So my big goal race for this past year, the Spirit of Racine Tri in July became a swim only for me. And I took some time off from running and biking in training. Phooey. I did get to do the Colorado Relay in September 4 weeks post-surgery, I just did a relay leg in the duke city marathon with some friends 2 weekends ago, and on a whim and an invitation from J., went to do the Soma Quarterman triathlon in Tempe AZ last weekend. So the fall has been fun, but… I miss racing. (It’s kinda scary to type that out there for people to see as I could be held accountable. Fear of failure is a b!@%ch.) Last fall I got to race some fun races. This fall… I got to participate in some fun races. Totally different feel. Very enjoyable, there’s been great company and good times. I like “doing” races. But now I want to do a few races where I have a time goal, I want to test myself.

I’d planned to try to get a marathon PR this fall/winter. My friends are doing the Cal International Marathon in Sacramento in December. That seems like a good goal. But, there’s a problem. I haven’t been training towards that goal. My running mileage is not where it should be. Over the last 6 weeks, my weekly totals are 6, 0, 40, 4, 12, 17… Just a wee bit variable. I’m proud of that 40 mile total – I did that over four days in Door County, WI. And it was gorgeously fun. I am not so pleased to see the zero, the 6, or the 4…..

I have 6 weeks to get ready for Cal International. Two of those weeks are light taper weeks right before the race. I know I can finish the marathon, but can I actually race it on the training I’ve been doing? I think I can probably get a PR – my best marathon time to date was at the Caldera trail marathon this year at 5:13. I think I might be able to beat 4 hours on the road if I train consistently over the next 6 weeks. It frustrates me to realize that with a little consistency, the question might have been whether I could beat 3:40. But I’ll try to let that go – that I can’t change. (Grr.) If I could just learn that consistency lesson, I think I could be a lot faster, and a lot happier with myself. Bah, who am I kidding? If it wasn’t the consistency thing, it’d be something else.

So I wonder, do I train and race to the best of my ability for a race in 6 weeks? Or do I pick another marathon further in the future, and really train for that?

Right now, I think I’ll train for Cal International. I have other races in my sights for the spring. I think I’ll race my best on Dec. 7th, and take whatever I can do on that day. I have an 18 mile run scheduled for Sunday. If it goes ok, I’ll register for the marathon.

A Kind of Commendation

On the first of several days of shooting scenes with a couple of meth-heads, C spent more than 2 hours making a guy look, well, like a meth-head. He completely airbrushed his body, making it sallow and spotted. He applied several prosthetic lesions all over the place, including one on the head. Not being a druggie myself, I didn’t get the lesions. C tells me that while high, meth addicts can think something is crawling on them, or under their skin, and pick and scratch at it. Then, they don’t take care of them selves (no shower every am, with lotion, etc.) and they barely eat. When they do eat, they crave sugar. So, you can imagine the lesions don’t heal nicely or quickly. (Blech!) C colored the guys teeth – see the eating sugar comment above. Then the Hair dept. makes the guys hair stringy and nasty. Finally, the actor is declared done, and he steps out of the trailer.

Into the path of the security team.

Who promptly try to kick him off set.
(he looked GOOOOOOD!)

After getting convincing the team that he was really an actor, and not a meth-head, the guy heads to set – usually located a short, 2 block walk away.

Where they try to kick him off set AGAIN.
(he looked REALLY GOOOOOD!)

Days like this, C is pretty sure he likes his job!

Everyone should be so lucky

“Woo Hoo!! Go Jane!!”

Loud whistles and cat calls. Someone nearby is bangin’ on a cow bell. I know its J. running below me on the trail, ‘cuz she’s wearing a hot pink running skirt, and as she runs by the volunteer at the bottom of the flight of stairs, the volunteer’s headlamp illuminates the pink something fierce. The moon is out, and the air is Granny-Smith-crisp, just my kind of weather. J. charges up the stairs, with D. & me cheering her on. She strips off the blue bracelet that serves as a relay baton, and I’m off.

I ran through the exchange point crowd, and was wide awake heading down the road alone. Oh, it felt so good to go downhill. The full moon was so bright, I didn’t need my headlamp. I thought about taking it off – would I get busted? Not worth it, I decided. The first of many magical moments on this second leg of mine came as I reached the end of the empty road, and was drawn to the bike path that started there by glowing lime green bread crumbs. “This way!” I felt that those glow sticks had been left there just for me, for this moment when I’d hit the trail.

I spotted a few runners ahead of me with their reflective vests bobbing up and down. I caught them. My legs felt so free. I forget how running fast makes me feel sometimes - light, wild, unstoppable. The mountain lake to my left reflected the moon and the stars, even. One waterfall on my left churned and roared in the darkness. Second waterfall, and I had to turn my head and catch a glimpse of the endless veil of water in the light of my headlamp. Magic. I looked down at my feet during this leg several times. The reflective strips would hit the pavement like a metronome. Keep them light - quick feet. You love it! Glowing bread crumbs dotted the bike path and I smiled at every one. I couldn’t stop myself from checking my pace. I was thrilled to see paces in the 7’s per mile. I felt like this was my forever pace – and I wanted to run forever. Yeah, I can run fast. Let’s go already!

I decended into fog, and the light of my headlamp reflected off of the tiny droplets and blinded me, then cleared, then blinded me again as I ran through the wisps. The big dipper directly in front of me kept drawing me forward. As J. said later, some constellations were hard to pick out – stars normally too faint to see stood out in the middle of them and confused the eye. The milky way snaked across the night sky.

This leg was rated “very hard” I think because it was 8.7 miles, on the longer side of the 30 relay legs, and because downhill sections can beat your legs up. But it didn't feel hard to me at this moment. I had estimated I’d run 10 minute miles. My team, and more specifically, M, who was the next runner, would be expecting me 87 minutes after the hand off. I was going to be early. For once I didn’t worry about something I couldn’t control – they’d find me. I trusted them. I started to dare myself to be as early as possible.

The bike path carved through some tight corners and steep descents, and I had to lean as I went through them, down them. I felt like a race car. Rounding a corner, I ran through a dark tunnel under I-70, the light of the moon lighting the pavement on the other side. The path ended on an empty road, nameless to me, but one that had been witness to both bike races and running races if the painted notes in the middles of the road were any indication. Still, my lime green bread crumbs pointed the way. A bicycle guide also leap-frogged me for this leg, keeping me and the other runners company and on track.

I was close now. My wrist GPS said so. Despite the cool air, I had worn too many clothes. I was hot now and kept pushing. I couldn’t see the exchange point. I thought it would be bustling with cargo vans, so well lit that I’d see it a mile away. Is my leg going to be a little longer?Maybe I won’t be as early as I thought…That’ll give me more time to pass those two ahead of me.

But then I rounded the corner and there it was. I started yelling my race number so the volunteers could alert my team. I heard them calling it out. I reached the check-in point, and gave the volunteer my initials. The 8.7 magical miles had taken me 68 minutes, 19 minutes faster than my estimate. Sounding worried, the volunteer said, “Your next runner hasn’t checked in yet.” I grinned. Heh, I am early!

Before that thought had even fully formed, here was M, giving his initials to the volunteer. I handed him the bracelet and strapped the reflective vest on him. “Go get ‘em, M!” The rest of the team led me to the van and they indulgently listened to me tell about my great run, repeating descriptions, raving about the path. Only other runners know the need to share and relive a great run. But I’ll spare you, dear reader, the description of my other two legs. Just know that I have written them out so I can relive, remember, and re-run them in my dreams.

Thanks, Van A!
Thank you, J. for organizing. What a race.

Colorado Relay
From Georgetown to Carbondale, CO
Over three mountain passes: Guanella, Georgia, and Vail.
10 runners, 174 miles, 28+ hours, very little sleep.
Adventure running at its best.
Sign me up for next year.

I've been TAGGED!

Six word Meme

The Six-Words Meme was originally started by Smith Magazine. Legend has it that Hemingway was once challenged to write a story in only six words. His response? “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” Last year, SMITH Magazine re-ignited the rencountre by asking our readers for their own six-word memoirs. They sent in short life stories in droves, from the bittersweet (“Cursed with cancer, blessed with friends”) and poignant (“I still make coffee for two”) to the inspirational (“Business school? Bah! Pop music? Hurrah”) and hilarious (“I like big butts, can’t lie”). So now, I've been tagged by dread pirate to write my own.

Huh.

I’ll try this out, no promises.

I did the Atomic Man Duathlon last weekend – the Little Boy course was 4K run, 15 K bike, 4K run. I’ve never done a duathlon before. The cold weather was nice - my arms were chilly to a bit numb for the first run. I went out conservatively, mostly because Geekgirl had just told me to: "don't go to fast in the first run, cuz you know you have to bike and then run again afterwards!" That, and I wasn't sure how biking after running would go. The hill on the Little Boy run course felt easy. Hills usually kill me, so I must be getting better.
Run: 20:45. (8:18 pace per mile)

And Now: on to the bike - I wasted a bit of time in T1 getting my riding gloves on. Not sure why I felt like I needed those for the 9 mile bike.
T1 - 1.34

My pink/magenta steel steed did me proud. No wind, which was so nice. I passed several people.
I feel good, dada nana dadana…

Then, several more people passed me. Ooops. My rankings tell the tale: out of 99 racers men and women – my time was 38th fastest for the run, 53rd for the bike (!!!) and then 29th for the second run. Perhaps biking is my weakness? The nice part is that I'm actually starting to enjoy biking a little these days- must be the great company in dread pirate and swtrigal. Anyhoo, the hills on the bike were not terribly steep or long, just kind of constantly rolling.
Bike = 34.01 mph = 16.4

I actually prepped for T2, undid the velcro on my shoes, took off my gloves while riding. Almost forgot to unclip at the line, and risked falling over at a dead stop right in front of Geekgirl, who had volunteered that day and was calling out race numbers.... It was nice to avoid that (narrowly). Maybe no one noticed….
T2= 0.48 Hey, my T2 time was second fastest in the top ten women!

The second run went fine, although I didn't really push it - I kept thinking I had a lot farther to go, and that I should save it for something down the line. I got a little warm. I hate getting too warm. I don’t mind sweating because I am working, I just don’t want to be sweating for no reason. Then when I realized I was almost done - the volunteer said 0.2 mi to go - I passed a few more people. Hmm, I have a little too much left in the tank. On the last 1 block uphill I could have tried to get the 3 women in front of me, but I decided not to. I had been catching up to them steadily, and I felt pretty good. But, I wanted a chance at a good finishing photo, and I wasn't sure I cared about an additional 15 seconds. Of course, now I think it would have been cool to beat them to the line. Oh well. Besides, my finishing photo looks horrible.
Run = 20.38 pace = 8:15 per mile Faster than the first go around!

No horking, could have been faster.
Imaginary standards means I can’t stop.

I should have tried to go faster on the first run and faster on the bike. Who knows though, I might have just blown up had I pushed it. So I'm happy with my first Du ever.


I thought I'd finish in 1:30 or so, so I was STOKED to finish in 1:17:44.
Didn’t know I could do that.

Hee Hee - a very good start to racing in 2008.
We’ll just ignore that Quadrathlon incident.

I'm no Hemingway, no surprise there.
I'll go back to lab now....

Cancun Dreams and Realities, continued...

Adventure #2

We decide that Thursday morning, we’d like to drive to Coba to explore a site of mayan ruins that has not been completely excavated. Although I was pushing to try to visit more sites on Thursday, Co convinced me that to over schedule our free time would be BAD. He was right. So, from Coba, we plan to head to our new cabana, hang out and relax in the water that evening. Then, Friday, we planned to do some snorkeling, and to get to the airport at 2:30.

To carry off this plan, we decide to leave the poopy resort by 8:00 am on Thursday. We consult two maps to plan our driving route. It looks like there are two ways to get to Coba. Unsure which would be better, we ask the concierge:
Me: “Should we take the coastal highway, or should we take the inland route?”
Him: “hmm… Oh, definitely take the inland route. It is much more direct. You’ll be there in 1.5 hours.”
Me: “so I take highway 285 to Hwy 5 south? Will I have any problems finding my way?”
Him: “No, you’ll be fine. Very easy.”

Ok, off we go. I was driving. I missed a turn right away, and we did a tour of the airport. I get on the correct highway going the correct direction upon exiting the airport. Not a huge detour. So, Co looks at the map and tells me the next turn should be Hwy 5 south in about 60 km. I make a note, and Co starts napping. La dee da… Driving is fun in a foreign country. Even relaxing. I get close to the km marker, and start watching. Wait, there was the marker…. No signs. Um, oh no. that was an overpass headed north/south, but no access ramp to it. Uh oh. I go another 4 km or so, and come to a “state line” and there is a toll station for trucks. I pull off, and Co wakes up. I explain. We look at the map, which is no help. We look around.
Two guys, in their 50’s maybe, are sitting outside of a building not far from us. They are watching us curiously, with beers in hand and shirts unbuttoned. I look at Co. “Think we can get help?” “Might as well try…”
I get out and approach the two, er, gentlemen. Broken Spanish starts here:
Me: Hi. We’re going to Coba. But… gesture at hwy 5 on the map.
Do you know how to get there?

Guy 1: Oh, you can’t get onto 5 from here. No access.

Me: Yes, but is there a town we can get off of this highway… and then to 5?

Guy 1 and 2: Oh you can go VIOWRHTOIHGQEO CIOWIYTQ OWI SDPIHF QOPWIT long very long.

Me: Ummm. I go north?

Guy 2: No, OIYYQOXIYO@)(#& AOIDHASDKH IEYR AOWIE EIYRKHROQIY but then FAOWUIEHC DI woerti HGWOIYT wleith ai.

Me: Umm, I didn’t understand that.

The two guys look at each other a say a few things I don’t catch. One gestures to the truck nearby, the other shakes his head.

One guy says to give the other guy $10 (100 pesos) and he will take us there.

I look at Co. He shrugs. I hand the guy 100 pesos. (I’m thinking, yup, I expected to pay my way out of this, the question is, are we really going to get where we want to be?) He says to follow him, and he gets a BICYCLE. We hurry to our car. We do a u-turn in the highway to get going the other direction. We drive on the shoulder of the highway at 8 mph following this guy on his bicycle. (!!)

We go maybe a mile. I mean, 1.5 km. The guy stops and lays his bike on the ground. The highway is bordered by a guard rail. The guy walks up to the guard rail, and starts UNSCREWING THE BOLTS THAT HOLD IT TOGETHER! I tell Co to get out and help him. I can see that beyond the guard rail is the remnants of an old road. Weeds are growing in the middle of the road, and trees are encroaching along its edge. There’s some trash around too. I cannot, however, see where this road will lead. It does head south, which is encouraging….

Co and the guy get a piece of the guard rail off, and the guy motions me through. Ok. I am feeling a little uncertain and ridiculous. (And I’m having a blast.) Co and the nice guy put the guard rail back on, the guy climbs back on his bike, and goes back towards the state line, and is out of sight quickly.

Co gets in the car. He’s also grinning a little uncertainly.
Me: I can’t believe that.
Co: The bolts were loose – that gets done a lot.
Me: I guess we go this way?
Co: Do you have a choice?
Me: Vamos!
Co: We’re dumb for not bringing a dictionary.
Me: Si Senor!

We head off down the road.

After 3 km or so, another road (in use this time) crosses our path. Of course, there are no signs to indicate what road this is, as this is not a legal intersection, so to speak. So, left or right? We gamble right. We were wrong, we realize, as we come to a small village. There are goats, and dogs, and children, but no hwy 5. We do another u-turn, pass the decrepit road, and Lo! There appear to us signs for hwy 5. Co and I are shaking our heads, dumbfounded by our luck at getting on the right road.
Best $10 we ever spent.

Here are some pictures from Coba, and our cabana on the beach in Tulum. Ah, so nice.

*coming soon*

Coba is a site of Mayan ruins, several of which are unexcavated. It’s a bit perplexing to see a tree growing right out of the middle of a rock structure. There were bicycle taxis you could hire to take you around, but we opted to walk the 4 to 5 miles. The main pathways are busy, but there are several temples off the main path that you get all to yourself.

We played spot the lizard:
*coming soon*

And spot the bat:
*coming soon*

The tour guides raced each other running up this pyramid – 42 meters tall.
*coming soon*

All in all, an excellent trip.

Cancun Dreams and Realities

Co and I head to Cancun for a semi-vacation. He’s on vacation, I’m at a conference 4 out of 5 days. Before we head out, we are both hoping he’ll be able to relax and stop shaking some of the time, and that we’ll be able to see some cool things on my free day.

There’s good, and bad…
Co weathers the airport travel with nary a shake. Wahoo! But, he gets really grumpy and lets me have it when the resort shuttle has my name on the list but not his. Boo! Their mistake, and we get to the resort, and still no shaking out of Co. Wahoo! We arrive at our all inclusive resort between mealtimes, and the only food available were burgers and hot dogs on the beach. Greasy. Tasteless. Boo! The conference is filled with people doing interesting research, and lots of good talks. Wahoo! The food is almost universally bad, including a cheesecake that might have been made from plastic gel, tasteless Mexican food, tasteless fish, tasteless wanna-be stir fry. And yet, we still seem to eat quite often. Boo! Our room is on the ground floor, and while the website stated that all rooms had views of the water, ours had a view of a little piece of lawn. Which occasionally had a peacock on it, waking us up early in the morning. Plus, our A/C did not work the first night (we called and had it repaired.) Boo! The conference schedulers wanted many professors to attend, so they scheduled it during the most popular spring break week. Thus, the resort was full to bursting with partying college students. Boo! There were wet t-shirt contests. There were 4 clubs at night to choose from, one involving foam. Many loud games of pool volleyball were played by girls in bikinis perched atop bare-chested tan boys. Mostly drunk, most of the time. Lots of loud singing and yelling late into the night. Did I mention we were on the ground floor? Need I say Boo? Boo! Hiss!

I never went “on spring break.” I don’t think I missed much.

Highlights of the All inclusive resort? The peacocks. The iguanas. The ocean. Everything else is worth forgetting.

So, for our last night, we decide to ditch the all inclusive poopy four star resort. We were desperately hoping for some peace and quiet, and some decent food. We booked a beach cabana at “Azulik” in Tulum, south of Cancun. No electricity. Private. Quiet. And close to the Mayan ruins at Coba that we planned to see Thursday.

Adventure #1
Renting a car. Now that we were not staying at the resort, we could not use their tour bus service, and we needed transportation. So, we head to the Hertz rental kiosk outside the hotel. We go for the 2 day rental. The attendant is very nice, explains everything. Fine, Fine. Then she says, we don’t have the car here. If you’d like, I will leave in 20 minutes to take you to our office, where you can pick up your car. Or, you can take the bus, which will get you there in 10 minutes.

Um, we don’t know where to get off the bus. We don’t have any pesos. We don’t speak Spanish, and we don’t have a Spanish/English dictionary. Ah, I think we’ll stay with you, nice attendant lady.

So we wait. No Big deal. We find out it is the attendant’s birthday (probably 22?). She’s going to go dancing. She tells us where the best dancing places are. She is getting antsy. She phones someone, and is getting frustrated. Then she says, “My partner was supposed to come and relieve me 20 minutes ago. I was going to take his car back to the office, and give you a ride at the same time. But, now I just want to leave, and the only car I have to drive is this one:


It seats two. Cute, and tiny.

Co and I say we are willing to give it a try. I sit on his lap. We are not comfy, but we are laughing. Poor attendant cannot get the car started. Inserting key and turning is not sufficient. We are now getting a bit warm. It starts to rain. We are still giggling. Ok, I am still giggling, Co is getting a bit uncomfortable. She manages to start the car, and we ride! It’s a zippy little car - My favorite kind. (On a side note, we’ve thought about getting one of these, but the gas mileage isn’t as good as we think it ought to be, only 44/31. Phooey. Maybe we’ll hold out for an electric car.) The car we rent is a non-descript 4 door compact. They give us a deal because of the ordeal in the Smart Car. Nice!

Adventure #2

More to come… when there is time. With Pics!

Weight training. On a bike.

Next up on the calendar:
The Santa Fe Century (bike 100 miles)

But, but... all I have to ride is my old 1980's steel Centurion. It's pink. It's heavy. The top tube is a little too long for me and my short torso. It doesn't have a saddle at the moment - I took my nice saddle off of it and put it on the dearly departed QR private reserve, which is now toast.

I will not let a little thing like a bike stand in the way of my training! I dusted the pink and white bike. I put an old saddle on the Centurion. I even tried to clean the chain. I hit the road. Three long rides under my belt, and many more ahead. I have suffered numb feet (stupid pedals), nose bleeds, flat tires, and squeaky chains. I have high velocity blood spatter on my windbreaker, and I am out of chamois butter. I average less than 15 mph. But I will not stop.

As dad would say, "Puts hair on your chest!"

I'm sending in my claim form to the Forest Service. I may offer a sacrifice in the hopes of hurrying the claims department on in processing my claim. Maybe a bug. Do you think sacrificing an insect will please the deities in charge of bicycle compensation? A spider? Maybe I should burn a piece of my carbon fiber fork with incense while singing, "Bicycle! Bicycle! I want to ride my bicycle..."

So, How did the Quad go?

Me: “Well, the weather looked like it was going to be a mess of snow and rain, but in the end it was perfect. I could tell my endurance is not where I’d like it to be – I got so tired on the way up. I was having a good race for me though, meeting my time goals despite some nasty calf cramps, until the bike down.”

Friend: “The last leg? What happened?”

Me: “I DNF’ed. My first. Boy that was a bummer. I had a mechanical. I was so disappointed”

Friend: “What, a flat tire? Didn’t you carry stuff to fix a flat?”

Me: “Yeah, I had a flat tire…. well, really it was two flat tires….”

Friend: “Oh, so you didn’t have enough to fix two flats. That sucks.”

Me: “Yeah, and then the seat came off the titanium rails, and the carbon fork broke. Not to mention the handlebars were crumpled into a small doughnut, and the aerobars snapped off.”

:P
Here’s a picture of my ‘mechanical.’

Unfortunately, a forest service employee had a seizure while driving his truck through the bike transition area during the race. No one was hurt, miraculously, but he crashed into a line of about 15 bikes. Mine was one of the casualties. If I’d gotten to the transition area 10 minutes sooner, I could have saved my bike! D’oh!

Quad Race Report

All the down and dirty details that no-one wants to read but me, next year before the race. :) You only think I’m kidding if you’re still reading this. You’ll learn.

On Friday, first Co and I went to the doc for his second opinion. No news there, unfortunately, his tremor issue is still unresolved. No surprise really, but still a big bummer.

I kept checking the weather before I left: it kept saying it would rain and snow all night and all day Saturday during the race. Ugh, I hadn’t planned for that – in fact, I’ve never done a race in bad weather. What to bring. I packed my rain shell and otherwise stuck with what I had.

I got to Grants, it was clear and partly sunny. !?! I picked up my packet under the helpful guidance of K and K – I was race number 13, and it was Friday… Oh well. I’m not superstitious anyway. Went out to eat at La Ventana – nice place – steak house type. I had grilled chicken with BBQ sauce, baked potato, roll, and broccoli. Back to the hotel room. In packing my transistion bags, I locked myself out of my room twice. Hotel clerk was really nice…. And the contents of those bags:

T1
2 Cliff shot
Mini cliff bar
Running shoes
Yak Trax
Knit gloves
6 oz flask with water – nice to take gu with, but maybe I can do without.

T2
Gaiters
Fleece Jacket – don’t bother next year
Wind Jacket
Ski Gloves – don’t bother next year
Ski Mittens – don’t bother next year
Knit gloves
Cliff shot
Mini cliff bar
Spare socks – don’t bother
Head band – don’t bother if similar temp.
Hat - don’t bother if similar temp.
Flask with Velcro on it, filled with water

T3
Snowshoes with running shoes preloaded
Ski wax plus cloth


I attached a ziplock bag on the front of each bag using safety pins with a piece of paper in the bag with my race # and my name in small print. (This was a good idea.) I preloaded my ski boots on my skis, and my skins on my skis. (K and K told me to – good plan.) Label ski boots with race number using duct tape. Bring a marker and a scissors and extra safety pins – these came in handy. I had pre wrapped my skis together – don’t bother with this, as the race requires certain colors of duct tape to be used. Gray duct tape, the volunteers know to remove. Red duct tape denotes run/ski tranisiton area. Yellow duct tape denotes bike/run transition area. I used zippered bags – another good thing.

At equipment drop off, in the firestation, I see huge trucks loaded with skis and bags. Just a ton of gear. They tape my T2 bag, my T3 bag and my skis and poles together with gray duct tape and load them on the truck. T1 bag gets loaded separately. And now, as K says, nothing more to worry about, you’ve got to live with whatever choices you’ve made!

Back to the hotel room, I meet K – she’s sharing my room. She seems really nice and has done the race several times., so she gave some advice. K and K came over, and we all talked about the weather – would it snow? Rain? They told stories from other years, and basically caught up with K who now lives in Co. She used to live in ABQ.


Went to bed around 9, didn’t get to sleep until maybe 11:00. Woke up several times, and finally at 5:00 I couldn’t get back to sleep. (not abnormal for a big race for me) Stayed in bed until K’s alarm went off at 6:30. It had snowed and it was gray and spitting out. Showered, ate oatmeal and orange, drank some water. K advised me to mark my bike shoes and helmet – good plan! The weather was starting to clear, yippee! Headed over to race start at 8:15. Sat in the car for a bit, then got the bike ready. Put on sunscreen – could use more of this! Bathroom trip – next year, bring a roll of TP – they ran out. No warm up – I guess I could run a bit, but too cold to really warm up on the bike.

Race started at 9:15 – to let the snow on the bike course melt a little more. (!!) I was wearing tights with grippies on the ankles, padded shorts over top, sports bra, tank, hoody, bike jersey over that, long fingered gloves, smart wool socks. I had cliff bloks in my jersey, a gu in the little pocket in my tights, and one ¾ full water bottle.

The Bike: my feet got a little cold, until about ½ way through the bike, then they started to warm up. I did manage to eat 133 calories (bloks) on the bike – I forgot to set my 10 min timer, so had to remember on my own. I’m satisfied with that. In town it was easy ot maintain about 18 mph, but then on the small incline, that decreased to about 16, and went steadily down from there. I could feel that I hadn’t been on my bike much – I need to work on some endurance here. As I crossed some slushy patches of pavement, my wheels slipped a bit. Just enough to make me nervous! I felt really good about the bike as I realized I was going to finish near my goal time of 1:10. I actually crossed in 1:15 or so. I took off the jersey, helmet, bike shoes, forgot to take off the bike shorts, grabbed the water flask, slipped on the run shoes with the yak trax preloaded, and headed out. Good transition – I think I was in there about 2:30. It threw me to have a volunteer help me, but it was nice. I made sure to get my shoes back in my bag before I left.

The run: More uphill, and I almost immediately started to cramp – in a weird muscle in my quad. Not normal. Then my calf. I knew it was going to be a long day! I just tried to focus on RFM – relentless forward motion, like K had told me. I started to count right footfalls – helps me keep form and pace. The first mile was 10 minutes, and I was really happy with that. I sipped water along the way. Didn’t bother me to carry the flask. I loved wearing the hoody – if I got cold, I flipped up the hood, warm, took it off and unzipped a bit. I didn’t really need the yak trax. On the final uphill I started walking, and ripped open the cliff shot I had. I ate about half of it – that was really all I could manage. Swallowing a big slug of that starts to make me gag after about three of them. Except for the cramping, the run went as planned, and took about 1:10 including T2, so the run must have been close to my goal time of 1:05. The run-ski transition was more hectic, but I remembered to take off my bike shorts, and forgot to put on the gaiters. (didn’t miss those until the snowshoe.) Again, having the volunteer threw me off a bit, but she was helpful getting my ski boots on. Wind jacket on. I put the velcroed flask on my backpack, and slung the backpack on, and went.

The ski: Skiing with momentum after running was really tough, esp. with the cramping I was having. Now there was a solid knot in both calves. The skins made climbing relatively easy, and I just kept plugging away. I passed a few people, and then the team folks started passing me. (2 had passed me on the run, one being E’s team.) RFM, baby! I passed a few people without skins, they were having a hard time on some of the inclines. I sipped once from the flask, but it was unwieldy. Best to skip this, I guess, and just drink in transition. It would be really nice to figure out how to have warmish water in T2 – maybe a thermos. All the aid stations had water with ice chunks in it. The ski up felt longer than I remembered. Really showed me that my run and bike endurance were not what they should be. I had to pause a few times to stretch my cramping calves. I was frustrated by that, but focused on keeping up to the guy ahead of me. I didn’t find the groove like I had in training, the groove I was in was much slower. I still am satisfied with my ski up time of 54.01 which is under my goal of 55:00. Including T3, though, it is 1:00. Some improvement to be made, mostly in endurance, I think. I took some water on the way in to T3.

Me, going up "Heartbreak Hill"

T3 was frustrating. I could not get my foot in my snowshoe because of my cramping calves. I kept groaning trying to just force them in. Finally I was able to get both feet in, and thank the volunteer that was trying to help me. I had to massage both calves a bit to get them to release, and I realized that running to the “edge of the world” was not going to happen.

Snowshoe: I hiked quickly to the edge of the world – most people around me were also hiking. The aid table at the edge of the world had music and booze, but I declined the offered drink. That was fun to see. The hike to the top from here has a really steep grade, and I was chugging along trying not to look up too much. I stopped several times to stretch and catch my breath. My glutes and hamstrings were burning by this time. (More squats and lunges next time!) Getting to the top was a relief, I had some water up there and took a minute to enjoy the view and rest. So sue me. Time 32.14 not including T3 versus goal of 35. Wahoo! On the run down I had to walk a little as the footing was really bad in some spots – loose snow with big divots in it. Tough to navigate. I jogged on the flatter sections for about ½ of it and walked the final bit into T3’. Time: 14.07 versus goal of 15. Again, getting into the ski boots wasn’t fun, but I did better. T3’ time was 3.37.

Ski down: I could tell my muscles were tired, and that control was going to be an issue. Not helping matters, the racers around me were also unsteady on their skis, and it was hard to pass on the 8 foot wide trail. I did pass several people. And I fell three times, twice when I could not get rid of speed and lost control, and once where I caught an ice patch. On one of these faceplants, my right calf cramped up so badly I cried out in pain trying to move it. Oh, that hurt so much. I need to work on my quads so that snowplowing isn’t so hard at this point. I was having trouble directing the metal edge into the snowpack to slow me down. More practice on skis will help too. (There are no training shortcuts!) The knit gloves for this section may not be the best choice – when I fell, they instantly got wet and the snow clung to them. My hands got cold. Taking the gloves off, whacking them against my leg worked ok. I was very glad to see the end of the ski section. Volunteers now were a little less organized, but still so helpful. Brought me my bag. I ate a mini Cliff peanut butter bar. Yummy. Time including T2’: 35.10 versus goal of 30 minutes.

Run down: Starting the run down felt so good! I cheered as I headed out. I maintained an even pace that felt pretty easy – I wanted to make sure my calves didn’t give up the ghost! I took off the yak trax after ten steps, as I just didn’t need them. I think I was doing about 9:30 miles until the short uphill sections. I walked maybe 3 times. I took water and an orange at the aid station, which tasted really good. The last two uphills, I was praying I remembered that the last one was really the last one, and there wouldn’t be one more uphill! Just like K said, I was so glad to see the transition area!!! Time: 49.03 versus my goal of 50 minutes – excellent! I was really excited now about getting on my bike and finishing the race, hopefully under 6:30 total (Total time at this point: 5:45.)

Remember my race number? Unlucky 13? Unfortunately, my race was cut short – my first DNF. Someone had a seizure while driving their truck and ran over about 20 bikes in the transition area. Mine was one of them. My first thought was “but, how am I going to finish the race?” I guess I could have run down the 13 miles. I guess I took it pretty well – I joked with a few others who were standing there. It was neat to see the inside of my carbon fiber fork. And, no one had been hurt as a result of the accident (although I’m not sure how the fellow with the seizure is doing). That is amazing, with a full and quite busy transition area, that no one was injured. In the end, it was only ‘stuff’ that got destroyed, and the police said everyone would be given replacement cost for their items. So, I let it go. If I’d gotten to T1’ about 10 minutes earlier, I would have saved my bike. If I had had K’s cell number memorized, I would have called him from T1’ and asked him to loan me his bike so I could finish. Crazy, but I would have. I know it now! I thought that the 2 in his number was a 7, but I won’t mess it up again! With no way to finish the bike section, I picked up the pieces of my bike, loaded them on the team buses, and got back to the finish line. I was really disappointed that I wasn’t able to finish the race! I was really looking forward to crossing the finish line and being able to recount the whole day. K found me at the finish area and asked me how it went. I held up a piece of my bike’s fork, and told him I had a souvenir. K said I still have a great story, it just doesn't happen to be one about how I finished the race.

So, I’m disappointed, but I’m resolved to come back next year, about hopefully post an even better time. The event was fantastically well run, and course is gorgeous. Quad 2009 here I come!

Quad Prep v 3.

I love it when I come off a training day having eliminated some of that ever present self doubt.

“Coach” K and I headed out to Mt. Taylor a week before the race to do the ski and snowshoe sections. I’d been skiing a lot, so I hoped that I’d feel more powerful on the way up, and more at ease on the descent.

I woke up to a bad scene, however. I flipped on the light in the kitchen, and there was a mouse on the floor. Dead. Yuck. I left it for Co to take care of. Not proud of that, but I was grossed out and in a hurry. (Needless to say there was some kitchen cleaning done later that day!!!)

But the rest of the day was perfect, and the ski up was easy. I tried it without skins on my skis at first, but then put them on after maybe ½ mile – the slipping backwards was not helping. The snowshoe up and down was a good workout, and the descent on the skis was a blast – I didn’t even fall once. OK, I put my knee down once, but it was in a very controlled manner. Really. We ran into some guys out snowmobiling the ski course to get it level for the groomer to come out – they were really friendly, and seemed happy to see us out there. It took us about 2:40 including the stops we made on the way. Moving time was 2:00. Here’s an elevation plot to show what it was like. I wish I’d brought my camera to take photos from the top.

And, as a special bonus end to a great day, my manager called. She made me a verbal offer to become a permanent staff member where I work. I accepted. It feels like a weight has been lifted, in that I don’t have to start looking for another job. Yay!

How to Fall on your Sword

FREE lessons and instruction book available! Act now!

Falling on one’s sword is a noble gesture, but not everyone is able to undertake this act. Fear not! Co is willing and able to give one-on-one lessons on the feat. First tip: He recommends you start by sitting on a knife. Then move up from there.

'Twas the night before Quad prep v.2…. I was running about getting my things ready for the bike and run sections of the race. I was also thinking to myself – WHY am I still awake!?! It is 11:15. I have to get up at 5:30, with a long day ahead of me. *grumble grumble.*

Then Co calls from the other end of the house, “Mo, I need you.” I thought he wanted me to help him test this computer game scenario. “you’ve got to be kidding me…” *grumble grumble.* I took my time. I round the corner and see Co in the bathroom, with his pants around his ankles, blood on them, and Co looking a little panicked. He had stabbed himself in his inner thigh. See, he was playing with this military-type knife he uses to open letters. Then he set it in his lap while he was talking to friends on the computer. Then he adjusted his seating to sit on his ankle, and as he sat back down he stabbed himself. He was bleeding quite a bit. What did he say to our friends? “Hey V, I gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow.”

We worried that he had gotten the femoral artery, so in to the ER we go. You should have heard the nurses laughing when I explained how Co had managed to stab himself there. Six hours and three stitches later, and we’re back at home. I cancel Quad prep v.2, and go to bed.

Confronting the Ick factor

Am I squeamish? Maybe. Maybe not.

I came home one night a few weeks ago, to find Dante shut out of the office. Aww! Poor Dog. Since he has no voice of his own (except for loud groans) I asked Co what was up.

"His right front paw has a split nail, and it was bleeding. I wasn't sure about cutting the nail, I thought I'd wait til you got home."

"Oh," I said, feeling confident, "I'll go cut it now."

Upon looking at said split nail, I set down the toenail clipper hastily. The bottom of the toenail had split from the top half, and had split waaayyyy down into the quick. It was still bleeding a little. Dante licked my hand holding his paw. Poor Dog! To cut off the dangling portion would still leave a split in the nail quite a ways back into the toe. Ow!

We debated. Cut it? Where? As far back as possible? Only the dangling part? I told Co I would help him, but that I didn't think I could do the cutting. For sure we'd actually be cutting into his toe, so to speak. So Co goes for the clippers, gets Dante in the tub with his paws up on the edge, and.... hesitates. He's just not sure where to cut. Dante has no clue why he is getting so much attention!

We call a vet friend, B. She says, well, actually, you've got to yank it. Take a pliers and yank it out. Ack! Co says, hey, isn't that used for torture in small countries? B says, well, yes... this is why you only have one shot at it. Take it and yank, don't be gentle. If you screw it up, you're done. I hem and haw, and ask some inane questions, and B finally says,

"I'm working tomorrow. If you don't think you can do it, bring Dante in and I'll take care of it. "

So I was off the hook. Co was totally ok with letting B take care of it! He was not about to yank out the split toenail.

But. Well. What she said made sense, she said we could use corn starch or styptic to stop the bleeding. I was confident it wouldn't hurt Dante long term. Just the short term. Alot. Come on, am I going to drive for an hour to have her do this? Really?

So I did it. Dante laid down, Co held his paw, and I took the pliers and yanked.
A brief yelp, and Dante hops up and comes over to me to apologize for whatever he had done, and then he promptly forgets about the whole thing. Gotta love that about dogs.

Quad Prep v. 1

What is that, you ask? What those two abbreviated words mean to me is a whole lot of (fun) biking, running, x-country skiing, and snowshoeing up and down a mountain. The race is the Mt. Taylor Quadrathlon – you go up the mountain (bike, run, ski, then snowshoe) then turn around and come back down. At the summit, you’re at 11301 feet. The race starts at Grants, NM; elevation 6450. Not bad! The race course is 42 miles long, but will still take me about 6.5 hours to finish because of the elevation changes. Okay, maybe longer. I really have no clue.

I went out on Friday 1/18 to do the ski and snowshoe portion of the race with a friend who knows the course. We get extra credit for getting the Outback stuck and digging it out, twice, plus skiing an extra 2 miles. Extra credit is good for the psyche. The whole excursion took us about 4 hours.

You may think the ascent would be the hardest part. You’d be wrong. Descending on cross country skis after you’re tired from ascending on ski and snowshoe – THAT is no mean feat! Picture your legs kinda wobbly, your hands kinda cold, and then think about going down a grade that is steep enough to easily make up part of a downhill ski terrain in Wisconsin, but only 6 feet wide. Oh, and the water froze in your Camelbak tube an hour ago, even though you swear you blew it back into the reservoir. Oops. As the first cross country ski of the year, perhaps this was a little ambitious.

But I think I fell less than my friend.
:)