Cranberry plan: one more time, with feeling

Feels like I just wrote up my last race plan, and here I am writing another. Guess that's the way it goes with back to back races. Cranberry is this Sunday, and it's an olympic distance. It's my last oly of the season, and I have to admit, I'm a little trepidatious for several reasons.

1. Last week's race was awesome, so seems like it will take a lot to rival it.
2. My last olympic at Mass State wasn't as awesome as I thought it would be, so I don't want to get my hopes up again.
3. Work's just crazy this week.
4. Paul's parents are coming to town, so we've been busy prepping.
5. It rained Monday to Wednesday of this week.
6. Because of 3, 4, and 5, today was my first training since Saturday's race. This is unheard of for me. I just lost the plot the week. Planning on a quick spin tomorrow morning, and that's probably it in terms of prep.

As a result, I've started obsessing about little details (like how to wear my hair - my hallmark braids aren't working with this new hair cut, so I was soliciting suggestions from my teammates this morning. Solution: two piggie tails on the top of my head, one low pony. Gonna test it out on the ride tomorrow) that my coach points out, won't make me any faster.

In my heart, I want to podium, I want to break my PR, but I worry that using those goals, I set myself up for disappointment again. I don't know how many people will be in my age group (though if I assume 5%, then it should be close to 50). I can't control how hot it's going to be (expected 88 degrees). How can I set these things as my goals when they feel so out of my control?

So here's my plan:

• 5:00am wake up, oatmeal
• 5:30am start driving down there (drink a bottle of heed)
• 6:30am arrive, bodymark, rack
• 7:05-7:25 warm up run
• 7:30 replace running shoes in transition
• 7:45 - 8 warm up swim, gu
• 8:10 start swimming! Start watch!

In the swim, I want to start near the front of the pack, push to the first buoy, then try to settle into a nice, but hard rhythm. Hopefully a wetsuit will work here, if it's not too warm.

Fast transition, tri shoes, already clipped in, grab helmet and sunnies.

Last week, I got passed on the bike by 5 people (and one whom I passed back and kept behind me). I know my swim is my strongest leg, so in all likelihood, I'm gonna get passed on the bike. I'm embracing this. My goal for the bike is to hang with these tough girls who pass me and use them to push me to go faster. "Keep them in your sights" is my motto. Gu once settled in, One bottle of Heed - drink the whole thing!

Second transition: runners, helmet off, visor on, race belt.

The run is tough too. Those 8 minute miles are elusive, but I will continue to hunt them down. I will use my watch to mark each mile. Ideally, I'd love to pass some of those fast bikers on the run, but that's out of my control. So I'm focusing on 8 minute miles, relaxing my shoulders and enjoying my run.

Finally, a few more piccies from last weekend:

Brenda (ready for her first tri), Andrea and me

into the chute

Timberman race report: Paying dividends

I came to the Timberman race to have fun, and that I definitely did. But it's also the first sprint that I've done since last year's timberman, so a great chance to see how I've progressed in my training.

I wore my wetsuit on the swim, cause I wanted to practice racing with it. I plan to wear it in both the cranberry this weekend and Pumpkinman in 3 weeks. Also, I knew this race would have wetsuit strippers, and I've never had my wetsuit stripped before. I took a place near the front of the pack. My entire wave was my age group, 82 athletes in all. I started out on some one's toes, but quickly passed her. The water was shallow. Seriously shallow:

Check out all those people walking. After the first 2 buoys, I couldn't see any other red caps ahead of me. I started realizing I could be in first place. Rounding the last buoy, another woman caught me. And she wasn't even wearing a wetsuit. I pushed hard, but I couldn't keep with her. Still I figured that had me in 2nd place. Here I am watching her cross the timing pad ahead of me.
Another woman in my age group (let's call her "the beast") passes me as I enter the wetsuit stripping area. The way this works, is you lay down on your back, and volunteers grab the suit at your waist and fling it off you. Here are some people getting stripped.

My volunteers grabbed my suit and pulled, but the suit stayed on, and instead I dragged along the ground. Luckily there was another volunteer to hold onto my hands, and on the second try, off came the wetsuit.

I passed the girl who passed me on the swim in transition. And the beast came out just ahead of me. She was clearly an athlete, clearly very fit and clearly very muscular. None of this bodes well for my bike. But on the first hill, I overtook her. Sweet. I held her off for about a mile before she overtook me again. But, I kept her in my sights. I then got passed by two BTT girls and a girl in a red tri suit. That meant I was in 5th behind the beast. Going down a big hill (and not using my brakes), I got passed by two other girls in my age group. I was not having that. I passed them both back on the next uphill, and I held them off for the next down hill. I ended up playing leapfrog with one of them for the rest of the course. We even caught up with the beast.

[heading out on the run, post beast, that's some serious neck tension]

I came out of transition just behind the two of them. I passed the beast on the run in the chute and passed the other girl in the first 100 paces after that. Sweet. Now I was in 4th. Just as I was thinking maybe I had a shot at the podium, another thought crossed my mind. What about the girls who are awesome runners? What if there are some of those behind me? Just then, one of them passes me. Ugh, ok. First mile 7:52. Not bad. I hit the turn around and starting making my way home. Second mile 6:19, ok that one I just don't believe, it must have been short. On the way home, I get passed by the girl who passed me on the swim. And then I'm turning to go back into the chute. There are a ton of BTTers there and I get lots of cheers, which apparently, I like:


I finished up in 1:21. That's 9 minutes faster than last year. 9 minutes! 2 on the swim, 4 on the bike and 3 on the run. EFF YEAH!

Also, I did keep good track of all the athletes that passed me and that I passed. When I crossed the finish line, I thought I was in 6th. Turns out that there was one lightning fast woman in my division, in fact, I think she won the whole thing. She was so fast that I never saw her. That put me 3rd on the swim, 10th on the bike and 12th on the run and 7th overall. Out of 82!

All of this has me super excited for next season. With this race, I could qualify for Nationals this year. I don't want to go this year, it's not part of my plan. I want to get faster on the bike and the run. It sucks having the swim be your best leg and then getting passed by people for the rest of the race. I want to qualify next year with a podium under my belt and be able to have a decent showing in Vermont at Nationals.

Timberman Sprint Race Plan

The race is Saturday morning at 7am. I'm doing this one with my old friend and original tri buddy Andrea. (She and I went to Bangkok a few years ago).

The plan for this race is simple:

• Have fun!
• Go hard!

I think I can do that.

Cycling community

Last weekend we went on a surprise camping trip to Vermont. I had planned a long ride for Saturday. We were right off the main highway, so I could have taken that out and back, but the cars go rather fast, and there's not that much shoulder. I used my phone to map out a route, and create a cue sheet of smaller country roads. With phone in pocket, off, I went.

About 2 miles into the ride, I see another cyclist pull out ahead of me. I catch up to him and ask him what road we're on (Vermonters aren't all that keen on street signs), turns out I missed my turn, but I explain, I was just out to do a 25 or so mile ride, and he invited me to tag along with him. I love that. Show up in a random place, meet up with a like-minded (and like-speed) cyclist and hang out for a few hours. What a great community of riders. Of course the flip side to this, is that I just enthusiastically followed a complete stranger into the back country of Vermont, but let's keep thinking positive.

I've been doing a lot of thinking recently about the animosity between motorists and cyclists (and pedestrians too, but that's a different matter). I've read a couple of different articles on it. Blaming the cars for putting cyclists in danger, blaming the cyclists for not following the rules, blaming the rules for being unrealistic, blaming roads in Boston for being designed by cows, not for cars or bikes. I've been trying to figure out where I come out with all these.

Here's what I think. I hate riding on the bike path. It sounds silly, right? It's the bike path, isn't that the best place to ride? No, it's not. The bike path is not just for bikes. It's for pedestrians, strollers, kids on trikes, dogs, skateboarders, and the most odious of non-cyclist roller bladers. I hate riding on the bike path because there are no rules. Yes, generally we keep to the right, but the whole thing is only a few 2.5 yards wide, things are bound to get messy. Particularly on sunny weekends. I hate riding on it, because I can't anticipate what all these people will do. Will they stop, move to the left, listen for me coming up behind them? All in all, constantly being on defense just makes for a stressful (and slower) ride.

What I like about the road, is that I know what to expect. Sure, a car could not see me, or could run a light, or make a turn without signaling, but generally, they are well-behaved and orderly. I still have to ride defensively, but I can be reasonably sure that I can anticipate what they'll do.

If I'm gonna take advantage of the orderliness that comes with riding on the road, I have to uphold it myself. That means following the same rules as the cars.* But in exchange, as drivers, we've gotta accept that bikes are gonna be on the road and that that's the best place for them. Give bikes room when we pass, use our blinkers and just follow the rules (that's right, stopping in the middle of a roundabout to let a biker on, is actually not helpful, now you're doing something unexpected and that causes accidents). At the end of the day, I'm both a driver and a cyclist, I try to show respect for both groups.

* Within reason. This means when rolling (yes, rolling, not throttling) toward a stop sign, if there's no one approaching, then roll through it (note: cars do this too). This means it's ok to ride two abreast when you're not in traffic, but you MUST go single file as soon as a car approaches (cars, a nice little toot on the horn [not laying on it] is appropriate if a bike doesn't go single right away). This does not excuse track stands at lights, weaving between cars or going the wrong way on a one way street. And don't get me started on helmets.

They can't all be good rides

First, Saturday, I took on another Brick of Doom. That's right: 2.5 mi run, 30 mi bike, 2.5 mi run, 30 mi bike, 2 mi run. Phew. 4.5 hours later, it was done. Special thanks to Jeff from BPC for taking this on after 6 weeks off the bike.

Then on Sunday, Paul and I joined a few other triathletes for our first ride together since the Prouty. Not our most successful ride:

1. We couldn't find the key to one of the bike racks to lock the bike on.
2. We couldn't find the key to unlock Paul's bike from the bike rack.
3. The local bike shop wasn't open to try to get a spare key from.
4. Paul took his first (and second) tumble while being clipped in (had to happen some time).
5. Paul's back wheel was not true and was rubbing on his brake.
6. Paul's waterbottle cage was loose and rattling.
   
7. Our 28 mile loop was actually 34. And I missed a turn and took us an additional half mile.
   
8. Paul was out of water and ready to be done at 25 miles.

But we made it. The next ride can only get better from here, right?

Mass State Race Report: Managing expectations

It wasn't quite what I had hoped for. I finished in 2:44. A minute slower than my PR. But, I did finish 5th in my age group (out of 12), and I did have the 2nd fastest swim in my age group. And I did go hard. Here are my highlights:

1. If I make my oatmeal a little on the soupy side, I can just drink it if I forget a spoon.
2. I bought new sunscreen for the race. I opted to go with Mission cause it's made by "athletes and scientists." But apparently not industrial designers. I couldn't get the bloody thing to spray, the cap just wouldn't lever enough to depress the internal plunger. Luckily, I discovered this on Saturday, and Paul helped me pry off the outer cap. Other than the can, the sunscreen worked well. I'm a fan of spray, because if you do it in light coats it doesn't smear your race number, obviously a must for the discerning triathlete.
   
3. I still find it quaint that races in the US insist on singing the National Anthem before every race. I don't think I ever heard Advance Australia Fair at a single race, but it's a nice touch.
4. I gotta remember to hit my start button on my watch.
   
5. On the first lap of the bike, it became clear that my goal of averaging 19.5 was just not going to happen: there was a head wind on the flat, and the mile long hill killed my momentum in the first few meters. After 12 miles I had a 17.5 average. I reset my expectations, and decided to shoot for a 18 average. Just as I turned into the park to head to transition, I hit 18. Woohoo.
6. Putting my gu for the run in my bike bento box was not a good plan, I forgot to move it to my pocket.
7. Sub-one-minute transitions!
8. My teammate Christina commented on how salty I was after the race. That's right, I was covered in salt crystals.
9. I need to re-evaluate my goal setting practice. I've never swum 1500 in 25 minutes in open water, I've never run a 50 minute 10K on its own. Why should I think that I could do both of those things for the first time in this race?
10. I've got an awesome team.
    

Mass State Race Plan

This Sunday is the Mass State Triathlon (http://www.maxperformanceonline.com/massstaterace.html). I'm doing the olympic distance race. (Check out the video of the bike on their site).

I haven't really been too focused on training since the Patriot. Still training, but nothing exceptional. Some weeks even taking 2 rest days! Low key rides, nothing longer than 50 miles, nothing faster than 17. Long open water swims with friends. Overall just enjoying the training and not going crazy. This could mean that I'm super well rested for this race, or it could mean that I'll just be slow. Guess we'll find out in a few days.

My goal for this race is to go hard. It's been almost a year since my last olympic distance (since Mooseman didn't really count). Patriot was about pushing, but still reserving something in the tank. This time, I want to go all out and see what I've got.

My 2:43 olympic PR was from Mooloolaba last year, so it's been a while since it's been truly tested. I went into training last fall with a goal of having a 25 minute swim for 1500m, which translates to 1:40s per 100, by the end of this season. Seems like this race is a good chance to test out how close I am to that goal.

On the ride, I'm not entirely sure. It's a mostly flat ride, but has 1 hill (done twice) that's about a mile long and at points it's 4%. I held 18.8 for the first 27 miles of the Patriot, so seems like 19 should be doable. 19.5 is the stretch goal. It would make the ride exactly 1:15.

Finally, for the run, I've always wanted a 50 minute run. That's 8 minute miles. My run at Mooseman was 51:21. I don't really have much of a reason to think that I can go faster than that, but it can't hurt to try, right? Or it will hurt, but it will be temporary.

25+1:15+50 = 2:30 without transitions. So with transitions 2:35? Shaving 8 minutes off my PR seems ambitious. So how about a hierarchy of goals:

1. Go hard!
2. 2:40 overall time.
3. Meeting one or more individual discipline goals
4. 2:35

Doing what we came for

Yesterday was the Prouty Charity Ride up in New Hampshire. It was Paul's first charity ride. It was also his first ride of the season. In fact, it was his first ride over 10 miles (35!). And it was my second race in New Hampshire in the pouring rain. (Does not bode well for Timberman)

Paul is not a cyclist. Despite his dedication to the Tour de France coverage, he's more of a team sport guy. The non-binary nature of the sport (no single winner/loser) doesn't appeal. On the contrary, that's actually the thing that has drawn me into triathlon. Each race is determined by me: there's no team to support me; no one to let down. If I go a little faster than last time, then that's a victory. If I ride a little further, that's a new challenge to have vanquished.

It's tough to keep perspective when the rest of our team rode 100 miles (after a night a pretty serious drinking [after we went to bed] nonetheless). But I don't think that should overshadow Paul's accomplishment.

This week Paul had been joking that he would only do 10 miles of the race. At 10 miles in, I asked if he wanted to do the 20 mile course, but Paul says no. We're doing what we came here to do.

So, I'm pretty excited for Paul's longest ride ever. We held a pace of almost 16 mph, took on a few serious hills and didn't even stop at the 3rd (and final) rest stop. The last hill, by and far the worst, was one that he thought he might have to walk up, but he didn't. He made it. When we passed through the finish line, he first laid his bike on the ground, then laid himself on the ground next to it and said that hill might have been the hardest thing he had ever done, EVER.

Now that's something to be proud of.

Fourth of July

It's actually been 4 years since I've been in the US for a Fourth of July. Hard to believe, but last year I was in Mexico for Toby and Brooke's wedding (yay!) and the two years before that were in Australia. I can't even remember what I did for my last American Fourth.

This year a friend of mine invited us to her Beacon Hill apartment to watch the fireworks from her balcony. But before all this, Paul and I went to watch the Pops rehearsal on the 3rd out on the Esplanade. It's not entirely fair to call it a "rehearsal" when thousands of people show up, and they do a full run-through with no stopping. We got there an hour early, and they had already filled the oval in front of the hatch shell. But we found a nice spot near storrow that still had views of the big screens and great sound. We brought a picnic and a crossword and just all in all had a great time. Here we are:

Awesome. So we were well-prepped for the actual Fourth festivities. We made the mistake of picking up beer near our house to bring to the party, necessitating lugging it from our house, to the T, off the T up Beacon Hill, passing 4 or 5 liquor stores on the way. Ok, seriously, we will not make this mistake again.

It was a great party, met new people, enjoyed some amazing homemade pizza (why does my crust never come out like that?). And watched the pops on TV, including the patriotic sing-along. Which Paul and I dominated with "to the oceans, white with FOAM!" Yes, that is what was missing from my Fourths these last 4 years. Some one to belt out American songs whose words are burned into my memory from years of chorus.

Then finally the fireworks:
Not a bad view from the balcony, and those weren't even the big ones.

The only real hiccup in the whole performance was trying to get back home. Estimates were that there were over 800,000 people on the Boston side for the fireworks (only 600,000 people actually live in the city of Boston), so getting home was a bit of a nightmare. We walked to Charles/MGH, to find it overrun with people, then crossed the bridge to Kendall - also overrun, continued walking towards Central and finally caught a cab home.

But we did get to experience the surreal feeling of walking down the middle of a busy Boston street that was closed to traffic. Here we are, in the street:

Uncharted waters

I'm in Canada this week for a conference, Quebec, in fact, here. Needless to say, I was stoked to be going to the great Canadian outdoors, and to get a chance to check out that lake.

Seriously, this was the view from my balcony this morning.

The resort was at the base of Mont Tremblant, a popular ski mountain, so I was a little worried about how cold this lake was going to be. I called the resort last week to see if I should bring a wetsuit. Here's how the conversation went down:

"Hi, I'll be staying with you next week. I was wondering if you knew what temperature the lake was."
"Ha ha ha. No, I don't know"
"Oh, well, have you been in the lake yet? Is it very cold?"
"Employees aren't allowed in the lake"
"Ok, have you seen many guests swim in the lake?"
"No"

Ok, fine, it looks cold, and they have a "semi-olympic pool," so I opted to not bring the wetsuit. But when I got there, the water was super warm, maybe 68-70 degrees. Monday afternoon we had some downtime before dinner, and I ran into some one else from the conference carrying goggles. Good sign. I asked him if he was going to swim, and he said, yes, but that he had already been chastised by the lifeguard to only swim within the ropes. But that the lifeguard took off at 5:30. So we bided our time. Finally around 6, we got our chance.

As we waded out of the shallows, I asked him about his open water swimming. Turns out, he's signed up for his first sprint in August, and he's never done any open water swimming, but he's pretty confident. I briefly go over spotting to keep him swimming in a straight line, and off we go.

Here's our planned route.

The first bit is sorta yucky. As the sand disappears into the depths, the seaweed reaches the surface. Despite all the open water swimming I've done over the last 5 years, I prefer to not see anything in the water when I swim. I resort to closing my eyes.

I clear this bit and get into the real deep, and things are feeling good. I pull up to a few kayakers and look back. My new friend is probably 50m back, and is breast stroking. I wait up for him, and assure the kayakers that we will be fine, we're strong swimmers and no, those dark clouds on the horizon don't look that scary.

When my friend catches up, I check in with him. He says swimming into the dark water had been harder than he expected, but he points out, he's gotta do it at some point. Right, I had forgotten about how scary that is. No matter how comfortable you may be at the deep end, when you're suddenly more than a few strokes from the side of the pool, panic sets in. Steve in a Speedo actually talked about getting his brother-in-law in the water for the first time this week.

We decide to continue on to swim to one of the islands. I suggest he tap my feet. This is a drill we do in practice to prep for races. You swim faster with less effort when you're swimming on some one else's feet: it's like drafting on the bike. And you don't feel alone. And you've got a goal which is keeping on those feet, and that helps keep your mind off of the deep.

Off we go. I check every 30 strokes or so, and he's keeping up well, and we make it as close to the island as I want to get (no seaweed). We tread for a bit, then breaststroke for a bit to catch our breaths. Those dark clouds from before, they've moved closer, they are encroaching on the resort, and in the distance we can hear thunder. I convince him to get moving. This time, he doesn't stay on my feet. This time he needs more rest. So we swim for a bit, we breast stroke a bit. He offers for me to go ahead, but no way am I gonna leave him in the middle of this lake.

We make it back through the seaweed, and we're chatting our way back to the shore, when the storm just opens up. Massive drops, strong gusts. We sprint out of the water, grab my clothes as they're just about to blow away. And jog into the hotel. Phew, safe.

Into the elevator, hit the button, doors close, lights out. Sweet, the power is out. About 30 seconds later, the emergency power kicks in, and the lights come back on. Ok, door open. Door open. Door open? Nothing. My friend tries to pry the doors open, but it's a single door, that closes to one side, and he can't fit his fingers in. Luckily, my fingers are small. I can just get my fingertips around the lip of the door. And I pull. Success. We escape.

It's been a long time since my first openwater swim at Walden all those years ago, when simultaneously Robyn, Andrea and I all stopped, panicked and decided to swim along the shore for safety. I'm impressed with my new friend. He did way better than I did, I'm sure he'll have a great swim.

Patriot Race Report: Learning the hard way

A little over a year ago, I took on my first half ironman. It was a challenge unlike other tris I have done. This year, I returned to the distance at the Patriot to try to learn from the difficulties last year and have a solid race. Well, I finished, and I learned more about this distance, but I don't think I can say I had a solid race. I finished in 6:08 - 18 minutes slower than last year. But I did come 8th in my age group (out of 26), so that's not too shabby. Still I wasn't out there to podium, I was out to master the distance, and once again, the half got the best of me. Here's what I learned.

Exiting T1

With temperatures in the upper-80s, I knew I'd need to take on more fluids. I'd even planned on stopping to pee, but as it turned out, I didn't have to. I have 2 water bottle cages on my bike, a front one with my sustained energy and a back one with just water. I usually only use my back cage to refill my front one in training, so when I went for my water 2 miles in, I dropped it. Crap. Well there's a water stop at mile 15, I'll just have to make it there. Bad plan. I should have stopped and picked up the bottle. Instead, I was without water for the first 50 minutes of the bike. I kept drinking my sustained energy, but it just wasn't doing it.

Then, of course, when I did finally get to the water stop, the water bottle didn't fit in my cage cause my bike is so tiny. Bad planning. I jammed it in on a diagonal. I wasn't going to go without water for the next 15 miles. I focused on drinking ever mile, to try to get the fluid back into me.

Finishing lap 1

When I got to the next water stop at 30 miles, I still had half of the water bottle and half of my fuel, so I decided I was good, I didn't exchange bottles. Again, bad plan. I ran out of all fluids at around mile 38, still ~7 miles to the next water stop. At this point I start developing a dehydration headache. Ugh. More water at mile 45, but it was too late.

On my way out of the run, stuffing my bike gloves into a pocket

I got into T2, put on shoes and ran to make a portapotty stop. By this point I had had 3 bottles of liquid, but only a thin stream of gu-like pee came out. Dang, my reflection in the mirror revealed swollen lips. Seriously dehydrated. I tried to remedy with some heed at the first mile water stop. But by the time I got to mile 2, I felt worse. I sat down, drank water, heed, had electrolyte pills, a gu. The volunteers offered to give me a ride back to transition. No way. If I'm gonna quit it's gonna be at mile 3. I start walking. After a few yards, I get up to jogging. At mile 3 I start the routine that will take me through the remainder of the day: splash myself with a cup of water, drink a cup of heed, walk a few yards and get to jogging. By mile 5, I actually felt good. More gu, more electrolyte pills and I was even banging out 9 minute miles there for a bit. Mile 10 didn't feel so good, but I made it. Total run time was 2:21.

Ok, so there are the lessons: pick up the bottle you dropped, practice with the exact mechanisms you will use on race day, don't rely on race provisions, explore other water options (bottle on the bars? camelback?).

Despite all this, there were some really good moments of the race yesterday too. I had the 4th fastest swim in my age group. I averaged 18.8 for the first half of the bike and 18.4 overall, giving me the 6th fastest bike in my age group. Once I got the hydration back in control, my run actually felt pretty good. I'm really proud of finishing the race. And finally, (and most importantly) my knee felt fine. Even a day later it's feeling ok. This was probably due to my absolutely amazing pit crew, Paul, who was ready for me with ice and saran wrap immediately after the race.

This morning I woke up still 4 pounds shy of my regular weight, so I've still got some work to do getting hydrated. But I'm now considering signing up for Pumpkinman. One more meeting with the half distance to tackle it.

Patriot plan

Ok, first. I'm writing this from a hotel at the SFO airport. This is not my ideal race prep, but I came out here to give a proposal, and it went well. So I'm going with it. Plus, for my last half I did a trans-continental flight 2 days before, and that was fine, right? I fly out at 6 tomorrow morning.

Back to the race. Since Mooseman, my knee has not been happy. And it's not been indifferent either. It has been angry. Seriously angry. Like 5 days ago, I was considering pulling out of the race angry. It's the same old thing, super tight IT band pulling knee all out of shape. But it was waking me up in the middle of the night. It was painful to put weight on; it was painful to lift my knee. You get the picture. There's been a flurry of physical therapy-esque activity, and just a few tears, and at this point, I'm pretty confident I will be racing in about 36 hours.

It's supposed to be hot. Like 88 degress hot. Race starts at 7:15, so realistically, I'll be racing through the hottest part of the hottest day of the year. Awesome. Here's my plan:

Swim: Last year I did a 32 minute swim. Sure it was one of the best swims of my life, but I'd love to see a repeat of that. Plus, I've gotten faster over winter training. So lets go with 32 minutes.

Ride: First off, I'm wearing my regular cycling shoes, they're not as fast to put on, but they are seriously more comfortable, so those extra 20 seconds or so in transition seem totally worth it. Ok, so last year, I held a 30km/h pace which works out to 18mph. But that course was flat, dead flat. In this preseason, I've been stressing feeling like I'm not able to get up to that sort of speed this year. I just haven't ridden outside nearly as much as I did in Brisbane. But I've had a couple of good rides a nearly 20mph average at Mooseman, and a 17.8 average on the Patriot course a few weeks ago, so I'm thinking 18 is doable. I'll set my computer to average and just hold onto 18. This course is two loops of 29 miles, so it's a bit longer than Busso, so my time will be a bit longer, but the course is more interesting with a few rollers to get out of the saddle for. I'm looking forward to it.

Last time, I had planned on a pee break in T2, but this didn't happen. Not cause I was concerned about time, but because I was way too dehydrated to have to go. This will not be the case on Saturday. I've been training to take in more fluid and despite my coach's recommendations, I'm not going to try to pee on the bike. Like they say, don't race anything you haven't trained, so I'm planning on stopping at the portapotties after the first loop. All in all, this means I'm looking at a 3:15 bike.

Run: This is once again the wild card. I haven't done anything longer than a 10K run going into this, so that's nerve-racking, but I also feel confident that if I keep it controlled, that I can do it. Provided the knee behaves itself. I've got my nutrition and hydration in much better shape than last year (in that I've actually planned them), so if that was truly what held me back last year, then hopefully, I should be ready. 2 hours on the run is the goal.

0:32 + 3:15 + 2:00 = 5:47 + 0:05 (transition) + 0:03 (bathroom break) = 5:55.

Honestly, I will be happy to finish this race. I will be thrilled to come in sub-6. If I come in 5:55, it will be an amazing day. Given what an awesome day I've had today, anything seems possible.

More lessons from the other side of racing

First, a follow up on the earlier Mooseman post: I came in 27/64 in my age group. Ok, not great. There's some stiff competition in these parts. Here are a few more shots from the official race picts:


Looking aggressive on the bike, though that helmet looks really far back.


I think I like Matt's picture (from the first post) better for what it's worth.

And finally, oh yeah, I caught that guy. Final time was 1:44.

Moving on. On Sunday, Natalia and I volunteered for the Mooseman 70.3. We weren't thrilled going into it: it rained ALL day, but we went, and once there, we really enjoyed it. We were stationed in the transition area along with roughly 30 high school volunteers. Now I appreciate that the school has this program, but honestly, these kids were just in the way. None of them had ever done a tri or had any idea what would be helpful to the athletes. Most were put to work standing out of the way and cheering on the athletes as they ran through. Talia and I stationed ourselves in the middle of the transition area. We helped people locate their racks, sprung into action when a rack collapsed, untangled jerseys and were scandalized by some people's lack of modesty. Again, several lessons to take to my next tri:

• Never try to put on anything that is not loosely fitted in transition. You're wet. At this race, these items were wet, they just won't be easy to get into. Vests work well. Arm warmers should be swum in or avoided (or possibly rolled, so they're easy to unroll - though I didn't see any one attempt this)
• Don't try to get food into your pockets in transition. Do this beforehand. If you're putting on a vest, have them stashed. Use a bento box or swim with them.
• Know where the porta-potties are. We saw one athlete, run back over the mats and out to the spectator loos. I don't know what happened to his time, but it couldn't have been good.
• If you're going to sit down to put on shoes, have a place to do it. We saw one 3-legged camping stool and several buckets and milk crates used for this purpose.
• Flip or cover your shoes to prevent rain from pooling in them.
• Practice entering and exiting transition. I was surprised at how many pros didn't know where their racks were. It's not enough to just generally know where the exit is, actually practice.

Finally, although other race management folks got to ride around in this, we never got to, and I'm still bummed.

Mooseman Race Report or rolling with the punches

Which is safer riding or walking my bike through a thunderstorm? Well, the tires are rubber, so I'm not grounded when I'm riding, but I am soaked to the bone, so that probably doesn't matter. The frame is carbon, so it shouldn't be attracting the lightning right?

These are my thoughts as I pedaled my way to transition on Saturday morning for the Mooseman Olympic distance. The race did not go according to anyone's plans. We awoke to massive thunderstorms at 5am. At 7am they canceled the swim and postponed the race til 9, and I pedaled back to our little cabin. At this point, I felt very much on the fence as to whether or not I should bother with this race. The ride was cut down to 17 miles because a portion of the course had been washed out, and no swim at all meant my ability to practice my race routine was pretty much out the window. There's a part of me that wants to throw in the towel, promise myself I'll go for a ride later that day and go back to bed. And plenty of people did just that. But here I was, all ready to race with nowhere to go. I thought about my friend Natalia. You remember her, right? Well she's been struggling since the half marathon with injury. Her foot hurts to put weight on, the inside of her shin has been acting up, then on Friday the outside started to ache too, and she was just bummed. And rightfully so, being injured sucks. But despite this, she rallied to come out to Mooseman with the plan of making it a swim-bike for training purposes (she even left her sneaks at home, so she wouldn't be tempted.) I thought about Talia, and then I thought I've got two weeks til this half ironman, and giving up on things is not going to get me across the finish line.

Back out to the course we go! Screw my nutrition, let's use this race to get mentally prepped. Out on the bike things feel pretty good. I'm even holding a much faster pace than in practice. I make it up devil hill, passing two guys walking their bikes, and I pass my friend Audrey on the way to the turn on 3A. Feeling good. Then she passes me back. Hmm, this will never do. I know she will clobber me on the run, so I need to put in a good effort on the bike. I pass her back. OK, sweet, no wait, here she comes again. Goddammit, Audrey. I actually say this to her as I pass her one final time. Then I focus on racing, looking over my shoulder every now and then to see if she's making another move. I pull into transition cleanly.

After some brief confusion over some one else's bike being in my rack ("just put your bike anywhere," yells a volunteer - yes, that's what got us in this mess in the first place). I'm out on the run. My goal here is to mentally prep for the half. It's just about half of the distance of the run I'll face in two weeks, so let's treat it like that one. I go out thinking about, just turning my legs over, keeping good form, not pushing it. I start picking people off. I also start using the techniques I learned at the marathon to get water, and it works terrific. Audrey passes me on her way back, and I realize she passed me in transition. Boo. But I keep in mind this is about mental prep. At mile 5, I feel pretty good. Bit of a cramp in my right calf, but otherwise feeling good. It's time to ramp up this cruisey pace. I think about my tuesday night track practices. It's just four more laps. Go! I pick people off. A friend snaps this great picture as I run by the BTT tent.


I feel great. I look great (check out that left elbow, Ali - it is so far back!) I pass one guy, who had the gall to pass me back in the winding paths around transition that lead to the finish. On the last turn, I pull up next to him and say "Come on!", but he looks back and says "Go!" So I do, I pass him and sprint, yes, all out sprint to the finish. Damn. That felt great. I ran a 51 minute 10K. That's pretty close to my all time PR. This is making me think that my goal of breaking 50 minutes may be attainable this season if I do a 10K alone. Sweet.

The following day, Natalia and I volunteer in transition for the half ironman. I'll post more details later, but here's the super awesome t-shirt I got from the ironman tent. I mean really - it's math AND triathlon, has there ever been a more perfect t for me?

Race planning

It's here. The Mooseman Olympic distance is tomorrow. I'm using this race as a run through for the Patriot Half in two weeks. This means I'll be doing things a bit differently to the way I would normally race an Olympic, like wearing real bike shoes instead of tri shoes, bike gloves, eating solid food. My transitions may be a little longer, but I think the practice should be worth it. I've got plenty of other Olympic distances to really race on.

Here's the plan:

• 5am wake up, eat half a cup of oatmeal, drink a spark, braid hair
• 5:30 head to the course, register, rack, sunscreen, etc
• 7am warm up
• 7:30 first gu
• 7:46 start swim
• Transition to bike - sunnies, gloves, socks, shoes, helmet, bike, clif bar and additional gu in bento box, NUUN water bottle
• Eat half of clif bar after devil's hill
• Eat gu at turn for Cass Mill Rd
• Transition to run - runners, number belt, visor, one gu in pocket
• Eat gu on way out
• Drink water from aid station
• Finish race like a rockstar!

I'm still a little nervous about the nutrition, but this the time to test it out, work out any last minute kinks. Any suggestions?

Operation Cheering Section

Sunday was my day off from training, but it was race day for three of my friends. They were running the Run To Remember, a half marathon that winds its way through the city, across the river and up to Harvard and back. And this was Natalia's first half marathon ever!

Armed with these posters I hit the course:

OK, perhaps a bit of explanation is necessary for the first one, since several runners commented (and one demonstrated) that gorillas are not really the best animal to emulate when running. Natalia is mega strong, and one morning in the pool our coach, trying to encourage her to use all that muscle, yells out "Natalia, Swim like a gorilla!" I took this one out to Harvard, just before the turn around to cheer her on.

This one was much more easily recognized with many runners actually intoning it in Dory's voice. And this time I surprised Natalia, by hopping on the T and showing up in downtown crossing to cheer some more. It was funny how holding up a sign for the runners makes you an automatic tour guide for the race to any one else walking down the street. Also, I think making signs is the way to go, it's way easier than yelling.

And here she is at the halfway point, too fast for the camera. It was great fun to see her out there, achieving her goal.

Nerves

Once again, I find myself 3 weeks out from a half ironman, and once again, I feel underprepared.

Yesterday I went to do some course recon over at the Patriot course itself. The course is fantastic. Pretty flat with some undulations to keep you feeling fast. A few nasty pavement spots, but overall pretty good. It's clearly not as straightforward a course as Mooseman, but we seemed to navigate it ok. It's two loops of 29 miles each, so 2 miles longer than the regulation HIM. If they took this distance off of the run, I would be totally happy with that, but obviously they don't.

Despite my misgivings coming out of winter training, my biking is feeling REALLY good now, and I feel like the bike in this half is going to be fun, not boring. The terrain allows you to get that racing feeling. I'm not feeling like I have to hold back to stick to a race plan. Also, there's something about riding for 58 miles that is way easier than riding 90K. I replaced my chain and cassette two weeks ago and the bike is riding like new. Plus the last few long rides I've done have involved very little drafting, so I'm feeling prepped for this ride by myself.

I won't go as fast as my last half, but that's to be expected cause the courses are so different. Yesterday we held an average of 17.6 mph. Busso worked out to about 18mph. I'd be really happy to hold around 17.

But then there's the run. I did a 45 minute run off the bike yesterday. And it didn't hurt as much as the 30 minutes last week, but it still felt hard, and that's not even half of the distance that I actually have to do. I haven't done any long runs. Everything has been focused on not aggravating injury. It feels a lot like Noosa two years ago, when my shins were so bad I pretty much didn't run before the race, and it killed me mentally. I need to come up with some sort of mantra to get me through it.

Predictions for this year:

• 30 minute swim (that's 2 min faster than last year which seems fast, but I'm feeling more confident in pushing it in the swim)
• 3:20 bike (20 minutes slower, but it is 2 miles longer and not deadflat)
• 2 hour run (no idea if this is reasonable)

That puts me at 5:50 before transitions. Add 10 minutes for transitions (this year I really need to hydrate better). And we're looking at a 6 hour half. It's a little disappointing to think this year's half will be a good deal slower than last years, despite feeling fitter, but I need to set reasonable expectations.

Mooseman Recon or "I'll see you at the top"

My first race of the season is just 2 weeks away: the Mooseman Olympic distance. This weekend my team went up to Bristol, NH for the day to try out the race course. I rode the Olympic course twice to get in a nice 54 mile ride and followed that up with a painful (though not in the usual spots- shins felt ok) 30 minute run. Here's what I learned:

• This course is awesome. Rollers immediately, followed by the "Rhythm Section" (relatively flat, but bumpy roads), then undulating newly paved highway, and finally more rollers.
• There is one BIG hill aka "Devil Hill" but it's short, so yeah, you've gotta go in your granny gear, but it's only for a minute or two
  
• Trying to find landmarks to identify hills that I'll need to downshift on was hard. OK, after the cabin with the boat in the front yard, or how about the summer camp, or maybe the boulders. Oh hell. In the end I think I'll just downshift when the hills look big.
• I don't go fast downhill. My coach joked that I needed to put on a little more weight, but honestly, it's not the weight, it's the brakes that slow me down. I just get nervous. Repeatedly on Saturday, I'd get dropped as people sped past me on the downhill, only to catch back up on the uphill. I guess that's a good thing.
• As the morning progressed more riders showed up which gave the course much more of a race feel with people to pass/ be passed by. I felt good going into the last 20 miles, so I pushed it and averaged 17.1 for both loops. Nice.
  
• I'm now wondering about my half ironman (in 4 weeks). If the course is not truly dead flat, like Busso, and is more similar to this course, maybe I will be able to really "race" on the bike and not just hold pace. The question is how hard can I go on the bike and still finish the run.
  

M.O.M.'s 5K 2010: Race Report

I would have done this report much sooner, but I've been waiting for picts to be posted. Unfortunately, it looks like this race didn't have a photographer. I've found these, but there don't seem to be any of me. So you'll just have to imagine what I look like. ;)

I love Mother's Day races. I try to do one every year (or cheer one on if I've, say, just done a half ironman). It just seems like such a great way to celebrate moms. I've never run a 5K with my mom (though I would LOVE to), but since I don't usually get to see my mom on mother's day, I enjoy having that small time to myself to think about my mom.

I started the tradition many years ago (maybe 8 actually) with the M.O.M.'s run in Davis Square. This race is organized by my local massage therapist, and it's always got a great feel to it, very family-friendly, lots of people hanging out for the raffle, Red Bones BBQ and free beer after the race.

This year was a gorgeous day, sunny and bright, but ridiculously windy and around 50 degrees. This makes for a mentally tough race. I got to the start (roughly 4 minutes walk from my house) with about 30 minutes to spare and got my number and bag. I waited til about 10 minutes til the start to go out to warm up. I didn't want to get warm and then cold again. I went for a very short warm up (maybe half a mile) focused on having good form.

Ok, I was feeling ready. I haven't run a 5K since the PR I set in March. I wanted a good time, but I wasn't expecting a new PR. I had done a 3 hour brick the previous day, so I wouldn't say my legs were exactly fresh, and I had 4 hours of riding to pull off after this race. I decided to just run to feel good, and if I felt good, to push it.

There's no chips for the race, so I trust my watch time, more so than the official time. It took a bit of time to get the pack moving to cross the start line. Almost immediately, my left shoe came untied. Ugh, why couldn't it have come undone during the warm up. Isn't that what it's for? To stop or not to stop? Well at this point, I still had 3 miles to go. Seemed like the 10 seconds I would lose to tie it, would be much better than taking a spill. So I took a look up at the people just ahead of me to get a sense of where I was in the pack, and I pulled to the side to retie.

To my surprise, it didn't take much time to catch back up. I saw Brenda who trains with my team and had recently finished the Boston Marathon. In fact I think this was her first run since then, and it was the day after her birthday, so the reality is, she's a much faster runner than I am, but given circumstances I caught her. We chatted a little bit, then pushed eachother. And finally, I dropped her.

The course was a bit different to years prior. We run up highland and back down summer. This means that there are essentially two hills instead of the one (up summer, down elm) of previous years. I made the turn onto vinal for the first downhill, and it felt great, but I got passed back by another girl I had just passed. This would never do. As we turned onto Summer, just passed the halfway mark, I passed her back.

I set my sights on a few people ahead of me for the uphill, but they were pretty consistent. A few runners I closed in on, but then could never catch. That hill on Summer was pretty lonely. Just coming over the top I finally passed one of them. Now we were into the last half mile, and I just wanted to be done. But I was also running into the wind now. I tried to put on the last of what I had left and caught two more people on the way to the finish line, but came in with an official time of 24:03.

It was a little disappointing to see the clock tick over to the 24th minute since my last race was solidly in the 23s. But my watch had me timed at 23:52, which I think was more accurate. And that gave me 14 seconds slower than my last race. Now if we account for the tying of the shoe, and the hills (the last race was nearly dead flat), it actually seems like a race I was pretty on par with. I came in 6 out of 63 in my age group (12 seconds behind 5th place, 17 out of 4th, and nearly a minute out of 3rd), 82nd overall out of 360. A little better than I'd fared at the last race (6/68 and 121/460).

Overall, a very promising race. Hopefully, with a little luck on the injury front, I'll be able to keep pulling down this sort of race.

Old injuries are new again

My second season doing triathlon I started getting pain on the outside of my knee. I tried stretching and icing it, I started wearing a compression brace, and I cut back my training. But nothing seemed to work. Then one night, after some vigorous stretching, I awoke in the middle of the night to find my knee roughly the size of a cantaloupe (or rock melon, if that's your preference).

I went to the doc. They x-rayed it, they mri-ed it, and the verdict was to take some prescription NSAIDs and leave it alone for 6 weeks. It still hadn't recovered, so I went to 6 weeks of PT, which I was also not very impressed with. We did some very gentle exercises to strengthen the inside of my knee, and after 12 weeks, it seemed to have calmed down.

I know a lot more about the injury now, and I realize it was actually ITB syndrome which was putting pressure on my knee and causing it to rub. And with all the shin issues my running created over the last two years, I haven't really had to deal with it again.

Until about 4 weeks ago. I noticed after strength training that my ITB was tight, but after a few days of foam rolling it subsided. The following week it was back again, but this time, the following day I had the pain in my knee again. Bugger. More rolling.

And this is where I should probably establish that I am up for just about any sort of crazy treatment that the internet can throw at me. Since I started triathloning, I've submitted myself to being stabbed (accupuncture), having giant hickies (cupping), table-clutchingly painful massage directly into the injury, and essentially finding my funny-bone in my legs (fascial stretching from a man I usually refer to as "the witch doctor"). I've also tried nasal irrigation, but that's not related to my running injuries (though I really believe it works). Basically, if some one promised to make my leg injuries subside through massaging my aura or sitting in post-race porta potties on a warm day, I would do it (and probably pay $90 for the pleasure).

My coach suggested I go see the team chiropractor. So on a Thursday after another session of strength training, I went to see him for the first time. He does a combination of Active Release Therapy, which is targeted massage meant to break up the adhesions in and between muscles, and Graston Treatment, which is essentially ironing out the muscle with a butter knife. The Graston results in some pretty serious bruising. The first treatment goes well. I go back the following Tuesday after a strength workout of my own and before a track practice. My knee felt good going in, but on Wednesday I've got pain in the top outer part of my calf and stiffness on the inside of my knee. Thursday I go back to strength, and back to the chiro. This time we do some pretty serious work to the inside of my knee and it's the most painful treatment I've had and by Thursday night my knee is seriously stiff, like I can't bend it all the way. That night I was supposed to do a run, but upon putting on shorts I discovered my knee was swelling up again.

This is bad, and I start to panic a bit. I've only got 6 weeks til the half. Now is the time to be doing my best volume work. I can't have a swollen knee. I run my knee through the GameReady (a compression and icing machine, which Paul bought for his shoulder and is awesome), and it definitely helps some of the swelling. The following morning I go to swimming and the knee is still a little swollen, but it's better. I talk to my coach about it, she assures me that some localized swelling is normal after an intensive treatment. And this helps quell the fears.

By Saturday morning things are feeling better. Every now and then I take a step that just feels like my knee is not quite in the joint the right way, but for the most part it's better. I go ahead and do a brick with 2:20 of biking and 40 min of running, and things feel pretty good. Sunday I run my mother's day 5K and follow up with a 58 mile ride (in some serious wind).

I had a bit more Graston yesterday on the ITB, and on the inside of the knee as well. Still a little swelling, but I rode this morning and things seems to be ok.

But that's just it. I can't really tell what's been the culprit here. Is it the strength training that's causing the dramas in my knee, the increased volume or the treatment? And if it is the treatment, is the cure worse than the disease, or will it result in improvements in the long term.

I'm traveling this weekend, so I will only be able to get in a long run while I'm away, which I hope will give the knee the rest it needs to recover from all the stuff I've been throwing at it.

Best (and Healthiest) Stew Ever!

I like making one big meal on a week night and having a few days worth of leftovers to bring in for lunch. Besides chili, I didn't have much in my repertoire that met this criterion. Enter the Best and Healthiest Stew Ever.

Last summer when we were part of the farm share, we got a ton of kale at the beginning of the summer, so after I confirmed with my gardener sister that the leafy substance was indeed kale, I got to work exploring kale recipes. There are several variations of a kale, white bean and sausage tuscan soup online. I started with this one. But, well, all that sausage made for a pretty greasy soup.

I substituted ground turkey for the sausage. Now that makes it way less greasy, but also significantly less tasty, and that would never do. A little more googling on spices that go into various sausages, and I settled on adding fennel seeds, rosemary, cumin and ground sage along with fresh garlic to recreate some of the flavor. I also found that getting "italian" ground turkey (i.e., turkey with red pepper flake and oregano ground into it) helped make up for the lack of sausage and reduced the need for a bouillon cube.

The other thing that seemed absolutely necessary was the Parmesan rind. Apparently, you can buy a whole tub of rinds at the grocery store (though you have to freeze them right away otherwise they mold). The rind just seems to make the whole thing a bunch richer.

Here's the new recipe:
1 onion, chopped
3 garlic cloves, chopped
1lb Italian ground turkey
Ground sage, fennel seeds, rosemary, cumin (I measured these out the first time, but now I just guess)
1 can of cannellini beans
1 can of water (from the beans)
2 pieces of parmesan rind
1 C of chopped carrots
1 bunch of kale, chopped

Sautee onion and garlic til translucent over medium heat, add turkey and spices, brown until turkey is cooked through. Add cannellini beans and an additional can of water. Add parmesan rind. Toss in carrots. Let stew for 20 minutes. Add in kale, stew another 10 to 20 minutes. Remove rind. Enjoy with a little fresh grated parmesan.

Water, water everywhere

Living in Australia, even in the rainy parts, you become much more aware of your water consumption. Shower timers are common. I was scolded by friends for leaving the tap running while washing the dishes. Washing of cars or watering of lawns with anything other than rain water is a huge no-no. It's like living on a boat. But, back in Boston, I've gotten reacquainted with my laissez-faire water usage attitude.

I had friends from oz in town this weekend, and I bragged to them about being able to take as long a shower as they liked. Not an hour later and announcements start coming that there's a massive water main break in Boston, that we're on the back-up water supply, and that we're to conserve and boil water before drinking. The irony is clear, and my immediate reaction is thirst.

I take for granted having safe drinking water. An emergency like this makes you aware of the modern conveniences that you don't even think about. Now most residents of the greater Boston area know that Cambridge is on an entirely separate water source (and has been unaffected by the break). Many local restaurants just closed rather than risk using contaminated water; others charged restaurants for the bottled water they served instead. It's pretty amazing the ripple effect (pun intended) this has had on the community.

In our house, our largest pot is the dutch oven. Unfortunately, it's a well-seasoned pot, that we use frequently for chili. Our drinking water has hints of cumin, capsicum and cinnamon.

Lessons from the other side of racing

I took the day off yesterday to hand out water at the mile 18 hydration station of the Boston Marathon. It was a fantastic experience, inspiring to watch both the elite and the age groupers compete. I did come away with several lessons both for myself as an athlete and also for race organization.

As a runner:

• Connect with your water volunteer - make eye contact, nod or even point to show them that you're coming in. We had one guy who essentially just knocked cups out of 7 or 8 volunteers' hands as he ran by, he just wasn't trying. If you surprise the volunteer, you're much more likely to lose the cup entirely.
• If you're going to walk through a water stop, then pull behind the volunteers if you can. Especially, if you're keeping up a good clip when you're running, other runners will be trying to run through and grab some water. Walkers blocking the cups make for some serious traffic jams.
• If you're not going to drink the whole cup, pour it out first, then chuck the cup.
• Thank the volunteers, they love it! So many runners were so grateful when they passed through it was really awesome.
  

Race organizers:

• The single most important change they could have made was to have different colored cups for water and gatorade. Sure the gatorade cups said "Gatorade" and the water cups said "Poland Springs" but they were both green. I mean come on, how many athletes are going to read the side of the cup to determine the contents, not to mention international runners who may have no idea what "Poland Springs" is.
  
• After that, having gatorade on one side of the street and water on the other would also make sense. Our water stop had tables on the right side of the street followed by tables on the left. Consistently telling people you will always have gatorade on the right followed by water on the left would be easy to implement and would eliminate confusion.
• Signs on the giant trashcans that we fill the water cups with would be a welcome addition. It's hard to blame people for trying to throw their trash in the trash cans. A "no trash" sign, or just roping them off would help keep runners and spectators from contaminating them with rubbish.

Finally, watching the marathon did make me think a bit more about "racing" versus "participating." The world of marathoners has grown substantially over the last 30 years. Boston allows people to finish within 6 hours of starting. Does it undermine the people who actually train and actually push themselves to finish to allow those who walk the majority of it? Every one still gets the same medal.

PS. Best spectator sign read: "Go Everyone!"

Brick of Doom

It's hard to do a good, long workout without biking. I can do a 90 minute swim set, (when uninjured,) I can run for two hours straight, but ask me to do a long ride, and we're in a different realm: three or four hours seems completely reasonable for a long ride.

But it is impossible to do this indoors. I guess it's not actually impossible, it's just not very much fun. On a trainer there's no coasting, there's no rush of wind, and there's no change of scenery. The weather has finally colluded with me to get the bike out and go long.

Last weekend I tackled a 45 mile easy ride with a few friends and brunch in the middle. Today was my coach's Brick of Doom. A brick is a combination of two disciplines used for training triathletes on the transition. Technically, I think it's called a brick cause you line up the disciplines like bricks, but some say it's because your legs feel like bricks when you try to run on them after a long ride.

The Brick of Doom is so-called (by me, no one else calls it that, but I'm hoping it catches on) because it's long and repetitive: three runs separated by two rides. Today's workout was supposed to be 30 minute intervals of running and 75 minute intervals of riding. I'm still on the slow and steady increase of running to avoid injury this season, so I only should run 45 minutes total, so I cut the run intervals down to 15 minutes, but kept the rides. My half ironman is coming up June 19th, and I'll do this workout several more times extending the distances. The Brick of Doom is hopefully my secret weapon for finishing that race strong.

I convinced some very nice friends to join me for this endeavor early this morning. We completed a 20 mile loop from Concord, out around Carlisle, through the Great Brook Farm State Park and back through Acton in 1:17 for our first loop and 1:14 for the second one. 40 miles total: the half ironman is 56 miles of biking, so it's getting close.

It feels fantastic to finish one of these long workouts first thing in the morning. The whole rest of your day can do no wrong. After a quick shower, Paul and I went out for brunch with some friends, then I came home and had a very serious nap.

And then there's the exhaustion in my legs. My legs ache in a way they haven't in months. There is nothing more rewarding.

Deviled Eggs

Last week we had potluck, but without a full kitchen, it was a bit more of a picnic. I decided to make deviled eggs. I can't remember making them since I was a kid, so I found a recipe online:

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Chipotle-Deviled-Eggs-236167

I remembered having some crunch to in the ones from my childhood from pickle (maybe that's a southern thing?), but I didn't want to add pickle to the chipotle eggs. Instead I opted for adding some scallion. I made a half dozen eggs a few days ahead to test out the recipe. I used 1.5t of chipotle (about one pepper) and 1.5t of the whites of scallion, finely minced.

These were pretty tasty (we ate all 6 eggs that night), but decided it could easily use more chipotle, more crunch and some more zing. For the crunch I added a bit more scallion and didn't mince quite so finely. For the zing, I added fresh lime juice.

The final recipe:
18 eggs
2T of chipotle
2T of scallion minced
~1C of mayo
juice from 2 small limes
Cilantro leaves to garnish

Hardboil the eggs. Split the eggs, scoop the yolks and mash them (before adding the mayo- learned that the hard way), mix with chipotle, scallion, mayo, and lime juice. Scoop back into the egg whites (scoops looked better than squirting it in from a plastic bag). Garnish with cilantro leaves (or greens from scallion, if you don't like cilantro - like me).

An Ras Mor: Race Report

Boston loves its St. Patrick's Day. It also loves its running. The two combined have resulted in various fun runs complete with runners dressed like leprechauns and followed by green beer. One of the largest in the area is held in Davis Square (my neighborhood).

A few months ago, I saw a friend comment on FB about a race, An Ras Mor (they all have Gaelic names) in Central Square (3 squares from Davis). I assumed, that was the race I remembered and that it must have moved cause Central is larger than Davis. I signed up Paul and me.
A few days later I realized my mistake. The race at home was Ras Na hEireann. It was still being run, just outside my door. And although it would have been temporally possible to run both races, my shins would not have been up for it. So I opted to just do the An Ras Mor and pass on the other one.
An update on my shins: My shin splints started acting up again in January after a week of particularly agressive mileage. I cut running for a week. Got new shoes (it was really past time). Started seeing a "Neuro-Fascial Therapist" aka "the Witch Doctor", and started running for 10 minutes at a go, always after warming up on the bike, adding 15% per week and never running two days in a row. It's actually been easier to stick with this routine than I thought. I've also signed up for a 2 hour running form seminar next week. The witch doctor has given me a handful of stretches (that feel like neural stretches, not muscular ones) that I do daily. I also see him regularly, and he does some pretty serious massage on my calves and feet. I'm pain free, but I still feel like I'm not 100%. I can usually feel what I can only describe as tension in my left shin. I've discontinued strength training for my calves since the current hypothesis revolves around imbalance between calf and shin, quad and hammie and so on. I continue to run, a little bit at a time.

This week, I was up to running 26 minutes in one effort. Which is good since 5Ks typically take me around 25. In fact, I haven't run a 5K in what feels like forever. I can't even remember running one in Brisbane. The last one I can remember was in Cairns. I ran somewhere around a 24:30. I wasn't expecting to run that fast this time around since my run training in the last 2 years has been so hit and miss.
Back to the race. Saturday is race packet pick up day. It's categorically miserable out: mid-30s and it's been raining for what feels like years. Roads are flooding. Oh and it's windy. Paul and I went to pick up our race packets, and I ran into my old massage therapist from years back. I've been meaning to look him up again. He truly has magic hands, so seeing him seems like an omen. I have to do this race (oh, plus he was one of the organizers, and I'd feel bad pulling out now). Paul, however, doesn't feel this way. He decides if it continues to be miserable, he would prefer to stay warm and dry on Sunday morning.

It turns out this would be a good thing for both of us. Had Paul come, we would have run together, holding a 9 minute-mile pace. Since he didn't, I could run at my pace, which I hoped would be closer to an 8 minute-mile (~25 minutes total). The weather persisted, and despite having brought dry clothes for the post race festivities (i.e., beer), there was no place to stash the bag. I ended up having to leave it outside, up against a building that shielded it, somewhat. from direct rain. I was shivering and soaked before the race even started, and just anxious to get moving.
When the gun finally sounded, it was a relief. The race itself ran from the Asgard up Mass Ave toward Harvard and back again. If you're familiar with Central square, it was actually a really nice course. There are so many landmarks to work with. The first mile came and went, and I swear the pacer said I was running 7:45. That felt great, a sub-8 for the first mile, I was sure I'd slow down as I got tired, so good to get that first one in.
In these sorts of races, I feel like the first mile is just sorting people out, you're jockeying for position, passing, getting passed, there's a lot of movement. Then things just settle down. You find the group of people who are your pace, and you guys for the most part hang together (unless there's a hill to sort out the strong from the weak). So a mile in, I felt like I had found my pack, but I was wrong. I'd see some one ahead of me and think, "ok, just hang on to that person," but a minute later, I'd find myself passing them. Then I'd pick the next person. It didn't occur to me until well into mile 2 that I hadn't found my pack, in fact I had just continued picking people off every step of the way. There was no pacer at mile 2, but my watch read 15:something which meant that I was still better than my 8 minute-mile pace. Then it was all about determination. The road had a gentle slope down to the finish, and I could easily follow the landmarks. First the Plough and Stars bar, then City Hall, next the T stop, then the Middle East restaurant, the fire station and that was it. When I turned the corner for the last 0.1 miles, I could see the finish clock. I was going to finish sub 24. It was amazing. I've definitely never run a sub 24.

Coming around that last turn.

My official time was 23:38. That means my pace was 7:37, smashing 8 minute miles. I was elated, but cold. I found my bag, which had managed to keep my clothes dry. I changed my shirt and wrapped up in my winter coat. I didn't bother to change pants and shoes, cause I didn't want to find a bathroom to change in. I didn't want to wait around to enjoy the beer in the rain. I was happy enough with my race.

I hope that this is an indication of good things to come from all the hours of winter training I've put in and carefully managing my shins. The Witch Doctor claims that doing his stretches will improve my speed drastically. I'm still skeptical, but I suppose if I keep having good times, I might be convinced.

Cooking from the pantry, not the recipe

I enjoy cooking. It didn't always used to be that way, but during college, my tastebuds finally started to expand what I liked, just like my mom always said. Perhaps leading the way was beer, but that was quickly supplemented with things like vegetables, fruits, herbs and later seafood(!) Even with as much love as I still harbor for cheese, I shudder to think of how many grilled cheese sandwiches I ate that first year at college.

Along with a taste for these new foods came a desire to learn how to make more than a packet of ramen and access to a kitchen. I started experimenting. At first there were some disasters (I still can't eat cilantro), but slowly the disaster to delicious ratio decreased. I'm still not great at following recipes.

Paul and I have changed our diets around a lot. We eat A TON of protein, and we eat it 5 times a day. We try to eat fish, scallops, turkey. We eat more red meat than we probably should, but it is tough to get protein in every meal without eating it. I've even been dabbling in chicken, something that bucked the trend and I stopped eating a few years ago.

Yesterday I decided to make steaks for me and Paul. But we eat a lot of protein, pretty much straight up without much else going on. I decided I was going to make mushrooms and deglaze the pan to make a sauce for the steaks. I wasn't exactly sure what to deglaze the pan with. I know that some recipes use wine, but we didn't have any wine. I didn't feel like looking for more inspiration from the internet, but I did have some beer left over in the bottom of a growler.

Beer, wine, they're pretty close. I like beer. Ok. Steaks done, mushrooms done, pour in the beer. Smells good... but tastes awful. The beer is super bitter. I cook it down some more, add some more seasoning. It just never gets any better. Perfectly good mushrooms completely ruined by beer. Who would have thought?

The trouble with the trouble with living in sin

Obviously, it's been a while. Posting to Shelby Apples was way easier than this blog because (1) I had all those funny Aussies to remark upon and (2) cause there are real troubles with living in sin that I don't want to post about. But I do miss blogging, even if it's only for myself. So, I've decided to redouble my efforts and focus on the aspects of attempting domesticity.

This week, Paul and I attempt to be crafty.

Paul's playing on a local volleyball team, and the tournament they were playing in this week required that every member of the team wear a numbered jersey. Numbers need to be at least 4" on the front and 6" on the back. It's Friday afternoon, and the tournament was Saturday morning. All of the other guys on the team had some old shirt that met the requirements, but not Paul. So, we decided we'd just make one.

First to Target to find a dry-fit shirt. I had my own doubts about attempting to iron on iron-on numbers to this type of shirt, but couldn't argue with not wanting to play in a cotton t. Then to Michaels, a store that pretty much epitomizes everything that we are not, from the rows of silk flowers to the carts of scrapbook stuff: Everything is ornate, and most of it already resembles junk. They have iron-on numbers, but the largest ones are 5". They have an empty rack of 8" numbers.

Plan A isn't working out so well. We ask a very unhelpful shopboy (and who can blame him really, he works at Michaels) if there are any other numbers. No love. We call another Michaels to see if they have 8" numbers in stock. Nope. Hmm.

Plan B: let's paint them on. There's an array of paints here next to the iron-on letters, and after sifting through about a dozen rows of bottles we find some non-puffy, non-glittery white spray paint. It claims to be a screen printer in a bottle. Brilliant. We can do this. Of course it's the only can of white they have. So we grab a yellow can too for good measure. Now to find a stencil.

Of course those don't come in greater than 3" numbers. No matter, we can make stencils, just need to print out the number and an exacto. A helpful shopboy suggests we get some thicker paper from the scrapbooking aisle to make the stencil. OK. We're good: paint, exacto, paper, stencil spray adhesive. We optimistically head home to start in on our project.

We choose a font, get the size right, go to print and only the front number prints. Now we're out of toner. Plan C: free hand the stencil. So glad we chose number '1'. We test out the paint on a piece of cardboard, it sprays. We're good. We spray the shirt and the paint manages to both dribble onto the t shirt and spray our dining table. Quick clean up, and we try again (this time with the whole t-shirt haloed with trashbags. It's still dribbly. In the end, we use paper towels to spread the paint around. It looks pretty haphazard. But it will do.

Paul was allowed to play in his homemade jersey. For the next tournament, they'll have their professionally printed jerseys, so this was both the maiden voyage and farewell to the homemade jersey. And hopefully, our last foray into craftiness for a long time.

Australia makes news in the US

Very rarely does news from Australia make the journey all the way to our fair shores. But the New Vegemite debate has been deemed worthy of a NY Times Article. Basically, Kraft announced a new vegemite spread which is a mix of vegemite and cream cheese (sounds delicious already). The asked people to give suggestions for a name and eventually landed on iSnack 2.0 (now that puts a bad taste in my mouth). The public was outraged, Kraft ran an online poll and renamed the new spread cheesymite.

Now this is all interesting from a marketing perspective, but I'm more interested in it from the pride Australians take in Vegemite. I'll be the first to admit that it's an aquired taste. Resembling in sight, smell and taste salty leftover beer, it took me a while to grow to love it. But Australians are passionate about it. It's a national icon. It has a song.

I love that when I googled for the song the second link was a clip from Good News Week (one of my favorite programs in oz) in which the entire audience breaks out into the Vegemite song. That's how into it Australians are. Do we, as Americans, have something similar? The Oscar Mayer song? And as my officemate points out, why don't kids know how to spell bologna if this song is so popular.