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!